THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


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SKETCHES  &  INCIDENTS; 

OR, 


A  BUDGET  FROM  THE  SADDLE-BAGS 

OF  A 


SUPERANNUATED  ITINERANT. 


VOLUME  I. 


GEORGE  PECK,  EDITOR. 


®iiutnnatt: 

PUBLISHED  BY  SWORMSTEDT  &  POE, 

TOR  THE  METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH,  AT  THE  WESTERN  DOOR 
CONCERN,  CORNER  OK  MAIN  AND  EIGHTH  STREETS. 


R.  I\  TIIOMl’SON,  ntlNTEPv. 

1855. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  y*  »r  .  dj 
G.  Lane  &  P.  P.  Sandfokd,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  tl*  District 
Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


~V  s 


PREFACE. 


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In  order  to  give  the  following  sketches 
a  slight  aspect  of  unity,  the  author  has 
adopted  an  arrangement  which  he  hopes 
will  not  detract  in  the  most  scrupulous 
estimation  from  the  general  veracity  of  the 
work. 

Though  adapted  to  the  Sunday-School 
Library,  it  is  chiefly  designed  for  the  ad¬ 
vanced  youth  of  the  church ;  and  the 
author  would  not  dissemble  that,  in  his 
matter  and  in  his  style,  he  has  studied 
to  meet  the  wants  of  this  interesting 
class.  While  our  denominational  litera¬ 
ture  abounds  in  standard  works  for  adults, 
and  includes  an  excellent  series  for  Sunday 
schools,  it  is  comparatively  destitute  of 
such  productions  as  have  been  furnished 
to  the  youth  of  the  Calvinistic  portion  of 


4 


PREFACE. 


the  religious  community,  by  Robert  Philip, 
the  Messrs.  Abbot,  &c.  The  present  pub- 
lication,  though  of  a  widely  different  cha¬ 
racter,  will  be  acceptable,  it  is  hoped,  to 
the  same  class  of  readers.  Perhaps  its 
more  fragmentary  form  may  serve  its  ob¬ 
ject.  The  author  has  sought  to  convey 
in  these  sketches  important  lessons,  and  to 
excite  an  affection  for  the  character  and 
institutions  of  the  church.  A  few  of  them 
have  already  been  extensively  circulated 
in  the  religious  prints.  The  interest  which 
they  have  thus  excited  has  encouraged 
their  publication  in  the  present  form. 


CONTENTS. 


Pago 


Introduction .  7 

Old  Jeddy.  There’s  Rest  at  Home .  9 

Wesley’s  Character . 18 

A  Vision  in  the  Wilderness .  28 

Children  of  Religious  Parents .  35 

The  Duel . . . A .  42 

Bishop  Asbui'y  .  51 

Presentiments .  58 

Anecdotes  of  Jesse  Lee . 63 

The  Moral  Sublime .  71 

The  Converted  Dutchman .  76 

Dr.  Coke  .  81 

Progress  in  Piety .  86 

Black  Harry  of  St.  Eustatius .  94 

The  Way  of  Life .  102 

Origin  of  Methodist  Economy  .  113 

Adaptation  of  Methodism  to  our  Country .  120 

The  Hospitable  Widow  and  the  Tract .  126 

My  Library .  131 

Mighty  Men .  142 

Jack  and  his  Master . . .  151 

Religious  Cheerfulness .  155 

Tor  Late . 161 


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4? 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  pleased  God  early  to  honor  the  writer 
of  these  pages  with  a  place  in  the  itinerant 
ranks  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
His  travels  have  been  extensive,  imposing 
a  little  hard  service,  and  affording  many 
interesting  recollections.  It  has  been  his 
happiness  to  know  many  of  the  fathers  who 
composed  the  first  itinerant  band,  the  legio 
tonans  (thundering  legion)  of  the  American 
church.  Infirmities  have  compelled  him 
to  retire  from  the  field ;  his  war-horse 
sleeps  under  the  sod  of  a  distant  prairie, 
and  his  shattered  trumpet  gives  but  a 
feeble  and  occasional  note.  His  saddle-bags 
remain.  They  hang  in  his  study  before 
him  while  penning  these  lines ;  he  can 
never  part  with  them.  They  are  fuller  of 
eminiscences  than  ever  they  were  of  any- 


8 


INTRODUCTION. 


thing  else,  and  if  God  will,  he  wishes  them 
placed  under  his  head  as  a  pillow  when 
dying.  To  beguile  the  tedium  of  re¬ 
tirement  and  illness,  he  has  written  the 
following  sketches,  chiefly  incidents  of 
ministerial  life.  As  they  were  written  they 
were  deposited  in  his  old  saddle-bags  until 
they  accumulated  to  a  considerable  budget. 
They  are  now  brought  forth  and  presented 
to  the  reader :  if  they  should  afford  him  a 
lesson  of  warning  or  consolation,  if  they 
should  produce  one  impression  which 
shall  survive  the  grave,  the  writer  will  be 
rewarded  and  thankful. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS: 


OLD  JEDDY— THERE’S  REST  AT  HOME. 

1  There  remainelh ,  therefore ,  a  rest  for  the  'people  of 

God." — Paul. 

I  was  preaching  one  Sunday  afternoon  in  tha 

door  of  a  log  cabin  in  the  village  of  P - ,  to 

a  congregation  which  filled  the  house  and  the 
front  yard.  When  about  half  through  the  ser¬ 
mon,  I  observed  an  old  negro  riding  alone  toward 
the  house.  He  dismounted,  fastened  his  hors  a 
to  a  tree,  and  took  his  stand  among  the  throng. 
The  tears  soon  trickled  down  his  furrowed 
cheeks,  and  it  seemed  impossible  for  him  to 
repress  some  hearty  exclamations.  At  the  con¬ 
clusion  of  the  service  he  presented  himself  with 
profound  reverence  as  my  guide  to  Colonel  M.’s, 
nineteen  miles  distant.  It  was  my  next  ap¬ 
pointment,  and  having  just  arrived  on  the  cir¬ 
cuit,  I  needed  some  guidance.  I  had  already 
preached  three  times  and  rode  twenty-three 
miles  that  day,  and  proposed  to  Jedediah,  or 
Jeddy,  as  he  was  called,  to  tarry  till  the  morn¬ 
ing;  buthe  replied  that  his  master,  the  colonel, 


10 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


insisted  upon  seeing  me  that  evening.  “  Do 
go,  massa,”  said  Jeddy,  “  for  no  massa  preacher 
be  there  for  four  months.”  I  mounted  to  start, 
but  Jeddy’s  horse  was  found  too  lame  to  return. 
The  late  rains  had  swept  away  a  bridge  on  the 
only  road,  and  rendered  it  necessary  to  take  an 
indirect  course  through  a  boggy  prairie,  in  order 
to  cross  the  stream  nearer  its  head.  The  horse 
had  sprained  one  of  his  legs  in  a  quicksand  of 
this  prairie,  but  Jeddy  insisted  on  returning  on 
foot, 

We  started  into  the  prairie,  but  had  not  got 
far  when  I  perceived  that,  owing  to  the  wet 
state  of  the  ground,  we  should  not,  at  Jeddy’s 
pace,  reach  our  destination  till  the  next  morn¬ 
ing.  But,  though  slipping  and  tugging  at  almost 
every  step,  the  good-hearted  negro’s  large  eyes 
gleamed  with  delight  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
induced  the  “massa  preacher”  to  accompany 
him.  I  directed  him  to  mount  behind  me :  he 
seemed  astonished  at  my  kindness,  and  looked 
at  me  in  silent  amazement,  but  at  last  yielded 
to  my  request.  By  a  little  familiarity  he  became 
quite  communicative.  I  led  him  into  a  recital 
of  his  whole  history,  particularly  of  his  Chris¬ 
tian  experience.  It  was  related  with  evident 
sincerity  and  deep  emotion  ;  the  tears  frequently 
flowed  from  the  old  man’s  eyes,  and  I  could  not 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


n 


restrain  my  own ;  we  wept  together  like  chil¬ 
dren.  Though  jogging  along  in  no  very  inte¬ 
resting  plight,  I  felt  that  St.  Paul’s  language 
was  not  inapplicable  to  us — God  “  hath  raised 
us  up  together,  and  made  us  sit  together  in 
heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus.” 

When  we  had  passed  the  first  nine  miles,  the 
night  was  falling  fast,  and,  what  was  infinitely 
worse,  we  began  to  falter  among  those  patches 
of  quicksand  so  frequent  and  so  dangerous  in 
some  of  the  western  prairies.  After  plunging 
into  a  number  of  these,  Jeddy  dismounted,  to 
relieve  the  danger  by  lessening  the  burden  of 
the  horse.  We  had  not  gone  twenty  rods  fur¬ 
ther  before  the  poor  animal  sunk  above  his 
knees  in  the  mire,  and  only  extricated  himself 
by  the  utmost  violence.  Though  accustomed 
to  greater  difficulties,  the  fatigues  of  the  day 
had  so  affected  me  that  I  began  to  show  less 
courage  than  the  poor  slave  who  guided  me. 
Dismounting,  I  leaned  wearily  against  my  horse, 
and  expressed  a  disposition  to  return  rather 
than  risk  the  perils  and  fatigues  of  the  remain 
ing  distance. 

“  No,  massa,”  replied  Jeddy,  “  be  not  dis¬ 
couraged,  there  be  rest  at  home  for  you.” 

There  was  something  either  in  the  tone  of 
Jeddy’s  voice,  or  my  own  mood  of  mind,  which 


12 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


gave  the  expression  at  once  a  double  sense 
“  Yes,”  I  involuntarily  exclaimed,  “  thank  God, 
there  is  a  home  for  us,  Jeddy,  where  the  weary 
are  at  rest.” 

“  O  yes,  massa,”  said  the  old  labor-worn 
negro,  as  the  tears  started  in  his  eyes,  “  me 
often  tinks  of  dat — me  hopes  to  get  dere  some 
day.” 

“  There  is  rest  at  home” — the  sentence  gave 
me  new  energy,  and  has  often  done  so  since, 
in  many  a  harder  trial. 

We  jogged  along,  but  ever  and  anon  were 
struggling  in  the  bogs.  Wearied  at  last,  we 
sat  down  on  a  small  protuberance  of  the  prairie, 
too  fatigued  to  proceed. 

“  How  old  are  you,  Jeddy  ?”  I  inquired. 

“  Seventy-three,  massa ;  me  be  getting  to¬ 
ward  dat  ‘  home,’  massa.” 

“  Have  you  a  wife,  Jeddy  ?”  “  Yes,  massa  ; 

but  me  know  not  where  she  be  :  former  massa 
love  not  God,  and  sold  her  far  away.”  “  Have 
you  children  ?”  “  Yes,  massa.”  “And  where 

are  they  ?”  “  All  gone,  too,  massa,  me  know 

not  where.  But  we  all  served  God,  massa, 
and  hope  to  meet  in  dat  home  where  be  rest.” 
The  tears  started  afresh  in  the  old  man’s  eyes. 
I  could  inquire  no  further.  My  feelings  over¬ 
powered  me.  What,  thought  I,  are  my  suffer- 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  13 

ings  compared  with  those  of  this  poor,  sorrow- 
stricken  servant  of  my  Master  ! 

“  There  is  rest  for  us  at  home,”  said  I  invo¬ 
luntarily,  and  motioned  to  proceed.  It  was 
very  dark,  the  rain  was  falling,  and  my  horse 
limped  with  lameness.  I  was  compelled  to 
lead  him  by  the  bridle  the  remaining  ten  dreary 
miles.  Through  rain,  and  mud,  and  quicksands, 
we  plodded  on,  nerved  against  them  all  by  the 
thought  which  ever  recurred  with  refreshing- 
influence  to  my  mind,  that  “  there  was  rest  for 
us  at  home.”  At  last  the  glimmer  of  a  distant 
light  fell  on  our  course.  “  Dat  is  home,  massa,” 
exclaimed  Jeddy,  with  ecstasy. 

So,  I  have  often  thought  since  then,  gleams 
the  light  of  hope  over  the  valley  and  shadow 
of  death  to  the  Christian  pilgrim. 

I  was  received  about  midnight  at  the  log 
cabin,  wet  and  weary,  yet  as  an  angel  of  God. 
The  table  had  been  spread  with  everything 
good  the  house  could  afford  for  my  refreshment. 
After  many  congratulations,  a  prayer  and  a 
song  of  praise,  I  laid  me  down  to  rest.  Rest , 
thought  I,  what  a  sweet  word !  Never  did  I 
feel  its  significance  more  than  in  the  slumbers 
of  that  night,  sweetened  as  they  were  by  beau¬ 
tiful  visions  of  that  better  land  where  “  there 
remaineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God.”-  The 


14 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


phrase  of  my  aged  guide  wove  itself  into  all  my 
dreaming  thoughts,  and  yet  with  such  effect  as 
not  in  the  least  to  disturb  my  repose.  At  one 
time  I  thought  I  was  reclining  my  head  on  the 
breast  of  a  seraph,  and  dying — nay,  it  was  fall¬ 
ing  asleep  in  Jesus — pervaded  from  head  to  foot 
with  the  most  delicious  sensations — a  feeling 
of  profound  repose,  which  I  never  felt  before 
nor  since.  At  another  I  was  gliding  in  the  air, 
up  over  the  hills,  down  into  the  valleys  of 
heaven,  without  touching  the  soil,  and  wrapt  in 
an  unimaginable  ecstasy — an  ecstasy  intense, 
and  yet  strangely  tranquil.  At  another,  I  was 
sweetly  sleeping  under  a  leafy  tree  near  one  of 
its  streams,  on  whose  margin  all  varieties  of 
flowers  were  bending  and  blushing,  as  if  at  the 
reflection  of  their  own  charms  ;  and  though 
asleep,  yet  it  seemed  that  my  eyes  were  open, 
drinking  in  all  the  indescribable  scenery,  while 
music,  slow,  sweet,  and  subdued  by  distance, 
flowed  like  a  soft  breeze  of  the  south  over  my 
charmed  spirit,  and  ever  and  anon  a  seraph 
glided  by,  smiling  with  unspeakable  love,  and 
uttering  as  he  passed,  “  Rest  thee ,  brother”  and 
leaving  behind  him  a  very  wake  of  fragrance 
like  the  odor  of  June  roses.  These  were  fan¬ 
tasies,  but  how  sweet  were  they  ! 

I  rose  the  next  morning  with  the  freshness 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


15 


of  youth,  greeted  by  the  sweet  and  ever-varying 
notes  of  a  mocking-bird,  which  had  perched  on 
a  tree  over  my  chamber. 

******* 

Ten  years  had  passed — years  of  much  labor 
and  sad  changes  in  my  history — when  I  had 
occasion  to  visit  a  much  more  remote  frontier 
settlement.  I  preached  in  a  log  school-house, 
to  a  congregation  gathered  from  within  twenty 
miles  around.  At  the  close  of  the  discourse,  a 
Mr.  M.  introduced  himself  to  me  as  the  son  of 
my  former  host,  Colonel  M.  The  colonel  had 
emancipated  his  slaves,  and  during  a  long  pe¬ 
riod  of  sickness  was  converted,  and  died,  it  was 
believed,  the  death  of  the  righteous.  The  son, 
indulging  the  characteristic  propensity  of  the 
family,  had  advanced  with  the  frontier  line,  and 
the  old  colored  servants,  unwilling  to  disperse, 
had  accompanied  him,  and  were  settled  about 
him.  One  of  them,  he  said,  was  not  expected 
to  live  from  hour  to  hour.  We  went  immedi¬ 
ately  to  the  sick  man’s  cabin  ;  it  was  surrounded 
by  colored  people,  weeping  like  children  for  a 
father.  On  a  bed  in  a  corner  lay  the  dying 
man.  I  approached  to  address  him  ;  his  lan¬ 
guid  eye  kindled,  and  in  a  moment  there  was  a 
mutual  recognition.  It  was  old  Jeddy.  Need 
I  tell  the  reader  the  effect  on  myself  and  on 


16 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  dying  African  1  Leaning  over  the  bed,  and 
taking  his  hand,  I  asked,  “  Do  you  remember, 
Jeddy,  the  boggy  prairie  at - ?” 

“  O  yes,  massa  ;  dat  precious  night,”  he  re¬ 
plied,  gasping  for  breath. 

“  Your  pilgrimage  is  most  ended.  There's 
rest  for  you  at  home,  Jeddy.” 

The  old  saint  had  not  forgotten  the  phrase. 
His  dying  eye  kindled  anew,  and  in  broken 
expressions  he  responded,  “Yes,  bless  de  Lord, 
massa,  me  most  dere,  me  most  home  ;  me  poor, 
old,  weary  servant,  0  very  weary,  but  going 
home,  going  home.”  Tears  of  gratitude  and 
joy  expressed  still  more  fully  his  thoughts. 
When  he  had  nearly  lost  the  power  of  speech, 
he  continued  to  utter  this  phrase,  and  his  last 
words  were,  “  Rest — home  !”  He  died  about 
eleven  o’clock  that  night,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
that  by  the  midnight  hour  he  had  passed  through 
the  “  everlasting  gates,”  and  was  hailed  by  se¬ 
raphim  amid  the  “  excellent  glory.” 

Often,  while  drooping  under  the  fatigues  and 
diseases  of  those  wild  regions — often,  in  laying 
my  head  on  my  saddle,  to  spend  the  night  in 
the  forest,  have  I  recalled  the  phrase  of  Jeddy, 
“  There’s  rest  at  home.”  There  has  been  a 
spell  of  power  in  these  words  which  no  labor 
no  peril,  has  been  able  to  dissipate. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


17 


Minister  of  God,  wandering  to  and  fro,  with¬ 
out  a  resting  place,  to  seek  the  lost  sheep  of 
the  house  of  Israel,  art  thou  at  times  weary  ? 
Dost  thou  long  for  a  home  and  repose  ?  Do 
thy  little  ones  die  in  thy  absence,  and  are  their 
graves  scattered  in  the  land  ?  Cheer  thee,  bro¬ 
ther,  thy  home  is  above,  and  a  rest  remaineth 
for  thee  there. 

Aged  pilgrim,  art  thou  bending  over  thy  staff, 
like  the  patriarch  “  seeking  a  better  country 
do  thy  aged  limbs  tremble  on  the  way  ?  Be  of 
good  courage,  the  difficult  heights  before  thee 
are  the  “  Delectable  Mountains.”  Struggle  on  ; 
thou  art  on  the  threshold  of  thy  home  :  there  is 
rest  for  thee  there. 

Afflicted  saint,  is  it  thy  lot  not  to  do,  but 
suffer  the  will  of  thy  Lord  ?  Art  thou  weary 
and  weak,  and  in  pains  ;  are  weeks  or  months 
of  languishing  before  thee  ?  “  Trust  thou  in  the 
Lord  for  ever,”  for  thy  “light  afflictions”  are 
“  but  for  a  moment,”  compared  with  the  “  rest 
that  remaineth”  for  thee.  Suffer  on,  the  end  is 
at  hand,  when  thou  shalt  “  enter  into  his  rest.” 

2 


18 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


WESLEY’S  CHARACTER. 

“  A  prince  and  a  great  man  in  Israel." — David. 

I  have  known  few  men  who  had  greater 
ability  in  the  discrimination  of  human  character 
than  Judge  M., — an  ability  which  he  had  ac¬ 
quired  as  well  by  extensive  biographical  reading 
as  by  the  study  of  life. 

He  had  been  reading  Southey’s  Life  of  Wes¬ 
ley.  “  It  is  a  most  interesting  production,”  said 
he,  “  but  very  unsatisfactory.  Its  style  is  a 
specimen  of  pure  and  vigorous  English,  and  its 
materials  are  singularly  rich,  even  romantic, 
but  it  lacks  unity,  and  the  final  impression  is 
vague.  Some  of  the  sketches  of  Wesley’s 
‘  helpers,’  as  they  are  called,  would  adorn  the 
romances  of  chivalry  ;  but  I  have  received  from 
the  book  no  definite  idea  of  Wesley  himself.” 

I  found,  nevertheless,  that  the  idea  he  had 
received,  however  indefinite,  was  not  too  fa¬ 
vorable. 

Watson’s  pungent  and  eloquent  critique  on 
Southey  had  just  appeared.  I  sent  it  to  him, 
vmpanied  with  Moore’s  Life  of  Wesley. 
While  reading  them,  he  frequently  sent  to  my 
library  for  other  publications  which  were  re- 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


19 


ferred  to  by  these  writers,  particularly  the  works 
of  Wesley,  Gillies,  Whitefield,  &c.  On  return¬ 
ing  them,  he  expressed  the  interest  he  had  felt 
in  their  perusal. 

“  I  have  never  before,”  said  he,  “  given  so 
much  attention  to  an  ecclesiastical  subject. 
Wesley’s  character  is  itself  a  study.  To  one 
who  has  not  examined  these  works  I  should 
hesitate  to  express  fully  my  estimate  of  him. 
He  equaled  Luther  in  energy  and  courage, 
while  he  excelled  him  in  prudence  and  learn¬ 
ing.  He  equaled  Melancthon  in  learning  and 
prudence,  while  he  surpassed  him  in  courage 
and  energy  ;  and  there  are  few  of  the  excel¬ 
lences  of  both  the  Wittemberg  reformers  which 
were  not  combined  and  transcended  in  his  indi¬ 
vidual  character. 

“  He  possessed  in  an  eminent  degree  one 
trait  of  a  master  mind — the  power  of  compre¬ 
hending  at  once  the  general  outlines  and  the 
details  of  plans,  the  aggregate  and  the  inte¬ 
grants.  It  is  this  power  which  forms  the  phi¬ 
losophical  genius  in  science ;  it  is  indispen¬ 
sable  to  the  successful  commander  and  the 
great  statesman.  It  is  illustrated  in  the  whole 
economical  system  of  Methodism — a  system 
which,  while  it  fixes  itself  to  the  smallest 
locality  with  the  utmost  detail  and  tenacity,  is 


20 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


sufficiently  general  in  its  provisions  to  reach 
the  ends  of  the  world,  and  still  maintain  its 
unity  of  spirit  and  discipline. 

“  No  man  knew  better  than  Wesley  the  im¬ 
portance  of  small  things.  You  recollect  that 
his  whole  financial  system  was  based  on  weekly 
penny  collections ;  and  it  was  a  rule  of  his 
preachers  never  to  omit  a  single  preaching 
appointment,  except  when  the  ‘  risk  of  life  or 
limb’  required.  So  far  as  I  can  judge,  he  was 
the  first  to  apply  extensively  the  plan  of  tract 
distribution.  He  wrote,  printed,  and  scattered 
over  the  kingdom,  placards  on  almost  every 
topic  of  morals  and  religion.  In  addition  to 
the  usual  services  of  the  church,  he  introduced 
what  you  call  the  band  meeting,  the  class  meet¬ 
ing ,  the  prayer  meeting,  the  love  feast,  and  the 
watch  night.  Not  content  with  his  itinerant 
laborers,  he  called  into  use  the  less  available 
powers  of  his  people,  by  establishing  the  depart¬ 
ments  of  local  preachers,  exhorters,  and  leaders. 
It  was,  in  fine,  by  gathering  together  fragments, 
by  combining  minutiae,  that  he  formed  that 
powerful  system  of  spiritual  means  which  is 
transcending  all  others  in  the  evangelization  of 
the  world. 

“  It  was  not  only  in  the  theoretical  construe- 
tion  of  plans  that  Wesley  excelled  ;  he  was,  if 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


21 


possible,  still  more  distinguished  by  practical 
energy.  The  variety  and  number  of  his  labors 
would  be  absolutely  incredible  to  me  with  less 
authentic  evidence  than  that  which  corrobo¬ 
rates  them.  He  was  perpetually  traveling  and 
preaching,  studying  and  writing,  translating  and 
abridging,  superintending  his  societies,  and  ap¬ 
plying  his  great  plans.  According  to  one  of 
these  authors,  he  traveled  usually  jive  thousand 
miles  a  year,  preaching  twice  and  thrice  a  day, 
commencing  at  five  o’clock  in  the  morning  ; 
and  in  all  this  incessant  traveling  and  preach¬ 
ing  he  carried  with  him  the  studious  and  medi¬ 
tative  habits  of  the  philosopher.  No  depart¬ 
ment  of  human  inquiry  was  omitted  by  him. 
‘  History,  poetry,  and  philosophy,’  says  he,  *  I 
read  on  horseback.’ 

“Wesley,  like  Luther,  knew  the  importance 
of  the  press  ;  he  kept  it  teeming  with  his  pub¬ 
lications,  and  his  itinerant  preachers  were  good 
agents  for  their  circulation.  And  here  [opening 
one  of  the  volumes]  is  a  sentence  addressed  to 
them  on  the  subject  which  indicates  his  cha¬ 
racter  : — ‘  Carry  them  with  you  through  every 
round ;  exert  yourselves  in  this  ;  be  not 
ashamed,  be  not  weary,  leave  no  stone  un¬ 
turned.’  His  works,  including  abridgments  and 
translations,  amounted  (if  I  estimate  rightly)  to 


22 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


about  two  hundred  volumes.  These  comprise 
treatises  on  almost  every  subject  of  divinity, 
poetry,  music,  history  ;  natural,  moral,  meta¬ 
physical,  and  political  philosophy.  He  wrote 
as  he  preached,  ad populum,  and  he  may  indeed 
be  considered  the  leader  in  those  exertions 
which  are  now  being  made  for  the  popular 
diffusion  of  knowledge. 

“  Differing  from  the  usual  character  of  men 
who  are  given  to  various  exertions  and  many 
plans,  he  was  accurate  and  profound.  He  was 
an  adept  in  classical  literature  and  the  use  of 
the  classical  tongues  ;  his  writings  are  adorned 
with  their  finest  passages.  He  was  familiar 
with  a  number  of  modern  languages  ;  and  I 
consider  his  own  style  one  of  the  best  exam¬ 
ples  of  strength  and  perspicuity  among  English 
writers.  He  seems  to  have  been  ready  on 
every  subject  of  learning  and  general  literature. 
As  a  logician,  he  was  remarkably  clear  and 
decisive. 

“  He  was  but  little  addicted  to  those  exhila¬ 
rations  and  contrarieties  of  frame  which  cha¬ 
racterize  imaginative  minds.  His  temperament 
was  warm,  but  not  fiery.  His  intellect  never 
appears  inflamed,  but  always  glowing — a  se¬ 
rene  radiance.  His  immense  labors  were 
accomplished,  not  by  the  impulses  of  restless 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  23 

enthusiasm,  but  by  tlie  cool  calculation  of  his 
plans,  and  the  steady  self-possession  with  which 
he  pursued  them.  I  like  thai  maxim  of  his — 
‘  Though  I  am  always  in  haste,  I  am  never  in 
a  hurry.’  He  was  as  economical  of  his  time 
as  a  miser  could  be  of  his  gold  ;  rising  at  four 
o’clock  in  the  morning,  and  allotting  to  every 
hour  its  appropriate  work.  4  Leisure  and  I  have 
taken  leave  of  each  other,’  said  he.  4nd  yet 
such  was  the  happy  arrangement  of  his  employ¬ 
ments,  that  amid  a  multiplicity  which  would 
distract  an  ordinary  man,  he  declares  that 
1  there  are  few  persons  who  spend  so  many 
hours  secluded  from  all  company  as  myself.’ 
The  wonder  of  his  character  is  the  self-control 
by  which  he  preserved  himself  calm,  while  he 
kept  all  in  excitement  around  him. 

“  He  was  a  contrast  to  Whitefield.  White- 
field  was  born  an  orator.  The  qualities  of  the 
orator  made  up  his  whole  genius  ;  they  were 
the  first  mental  manifestations  of  his  childhood, 
hut  were  pent  up  in  his  heart,  a  magazine  of 
energies,  until  kindled  by  the  influence  of  reli¬ 
gion,  when  they  broke  forth,  like  the  fires  of  a 
volcano.  He  was  a  man  of  boundless  soul. 
He  was  a  host  of  generous  sympathies ;  and 
every  sympathy,  in  him,  was  a  passion.  This 
was,  perhaps,  the  secret  of  his  eloquence.  The 


24 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


Athenian  orator  said  that  action  was  eloquence. 
Perhaps  antiquity  has  given  undue  authority  to 
this  remark.  The  pantomime  is  not  eloquent ; 
but  strong  passion  always  is,  and  always  would 
be,  had  it  the  expression  of  neither  hand  nor 
feature,  but  the  tremulous  tones  of  the  excited 
voice  coming  from  an  unseen  source  upon  the 
ear.  There  is  no  eloquence  without  feeling. 
Even  the  histrionic  orator  must  feel — not  affect 
to  feel,  but,  by  giving  himself  up  to  the  illusion 
of  reality  in  ideal  scenes,  actually  feel.  White- 
field’s  whole  Christian  course  showed  the  pre¬ 
valence  of  mighty  feelings. 

“  Whitefield  was  no  legislator  :  he  acted  en¬ 
tirely  without  a  system.  Here  was  his  great 
defect.  Had  he  combined  the  contriving  powers 
of  Wesley  with  his  own  effective  eloquence,  it 
cannot  be  doubted  that  he  would  have  occupied 
the  high  place  of  the  latter,  or,  at  least,  a  simi¬ 
lar  position  in  a  separate  sect  holding  the  tenets 
of  Calvinism.  His  powers  of  address  were 
much  more  immediately  effective  than  Wes¬ 
ley’s  ;  and  if  they  had  been  applied  to  the  es¬ 
tablishment  of  a  well-organized  system,  as  were 
Wesley’s,  the  result  would  have  been  immense. 
He  moved  like  a  comet,  dazzling  and  amazing 
the  world,  but  leaving  scarcely  a  trace  behind 
him.  Perhaps  his  capital  fault  was  his  sepa- 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


25 


ration  from  Wesley.  He  was  certainly  never 
designed  by  Providence  to  scatter  so  ineffectu¬ 
ally  his  vast  powers. 

“  Wesley  was  the  counterpart  of  Whitefield. 
They  were  raised  up  to  co-operate  in  one  great 
cause — the  one  to  construct  its  plans,  the  other 
to  vivify  them  with  the  electric  powers  of  bis 
genius.  The  one  held  on  his  due  course,  and 
the  results  of  his  steadfastness  are  still  develop¬ 
ing  on  a  scale  of  unparalleled  grandeur.  The 
other  deviated  ;  and  almost  the  last  vestige  of 
his  labors  has  passed  away,  or  blended  undis- 
tinguishably  with  the  mass  of  the  church. 

“  Like  the  great  men  of  old,  Wesley  was 
careful  in  his  physical  habits.  Though  of  a 
feeble  constitution,  his  regularity,  sustained 
through  great  exertions  and  vicissitudes,  pro¬ 
duced  a  vigor  and  equanimity  which  are  sel¬ 
dom  the  accompaniments  of  a  laborious  mind 
or  of  a  distracted  life.  He  somewhere  says  he 
does  not  remember  to  have  felt  lowness  of  spi¬ 
rits  one  quarter  of  an  hour  since  he  was  born — 
that  ten  thousand  cares  are  no  more  weight  to 
hii  mind  than  ten  thousand  hairs  are  to  his 
head — and  that  he  never  lost  a  night’s  sleep  in 
his  life.  Southey  says,  his  face  was  remark¬ 
ably  fine,  his  complexion  fresh  to  the  last  week 
of  his  life,  and  his  eye  quick,  keen,  and  active. 


26 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


“  One  of  the  finest  spectacles  to  me  is  thu? 
sight  of  an  old  man  holding  on  his  career  of 
action  or  endurance  to  the  extremity  of  life  with 
an  unwavering  spirit.  Such  was  Wesley.  He 
ceased  not  his  labors  till  death.  After  the 
eightieth  year  of  his  age  he  visited  Holland 
twice.  At  the  end  of  his  eighty-second,  he 
says,  4 1  am  never  tired  either  with  writing, 
preaching,  or  traveling.’  He  preached  under 
trees  which  he  had  planted  himself,  at  Kings- 
wood.  He  outlived  most  of  his  first  disciples 
and  preachers,  and  stood  up  mighty  in  intellect 
and  labors  among  the  second  and  third  gene¬ 
rations  of  his  people.  I  have  been  affected  in 
reading  the  account  of  his  later  years,  when 
persecution  had  subsided,  and  he  was  every¬ 
where  received  as  a  patriarch,  and  sometimes, 
as  his  biographer  says,  he  excited,  by  his  arrival 
in  towns  and  cities,  an  interest  such  as  the 
king  himself  would  produce.  He  attracted  the 
largest  assemblies,  perhaps,  which  have  been 
congregated  for  religious  instruction  since  the 
ministry  of  Christ,  being  estimated  sometimes  at 
more  than  thirty  thousand.  Great  intellectually, 
morally,  and  physically,  he  at  length  died,  in 
the  eighty-eighth  year  of  his  age,  and  sixty-fifth 
of  his  ministry,  unquestionably  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  men  of  any  age. 


27 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

t 

“  He  lived  to  see  Methodism  spread  through 
Great  Britain,  America,  and  the  West  India 
Islands.  Nearly  one  hundred  and  forty  thou¬ 
sand  members,  upward  of  five  hundred  itinerant 
preachers,  and  more  than  one  thousand  local 
preachers,  were  connected  with  him  when  he 
died.  And  how  have  these  multiplied  since ! 
The  epitaph  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  in  St. 
Paul’s  Cathedral,  the  work  of  his  own  genius, 
is  applicable  to  Wesley’s  memory  in  almost  all 
the  civilized  world  :  ‘  Do  you  ask  for  his  monu¬ 
ment  ?  Look  around  you .’  ” 


28 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


A  VISION  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

“  It  seemed  a  dream ,  and  yet  ' twas  not .” 

In  my  long  journeys  in  the  West,  I  useu 
frequently  to  rest  during  the  heat  of  the  noon¬ 
day  under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  fastening  my 
horse  to  one  of  its  branches  by  a  long  rope, 
which  afforded  him  ample  room  for  grazing. 
After  a  hearty  meal,  of  the  famed  “  hoe-cake ,” 
furnished  at  my  last  stopping  place,  and  eaten 
with  a  relish  which  nothing  but  hunger  and 
travel  can  give,  and  offering  up  my  tribute  of 
praise  to  Him  who  guided  my  wanderings,  I 
usually  lay  down  on  my  traveling  blanket,  with 
my  saddle  for  a  pillow,  and  refreshed  myself  by 
a  few  hours’  sleep.  Reposing  thus,  with  my 
pocket  Bible  in  my  hand,  reading  and  medi¬ 
tating  on  the  promises  of  God  to  his  people, 
I  once  fell  into  a  dreamy  revery,  during  which 
I  imagined  that  all  the  illustrious  of  the  church 
in  former  ages  passed  in  slow  procession  be¬ 
fore  me. 

First  in  the  long  train,  and  at  considerable 
distance  from  the  following  groups,  moved  a 
venerable  company,  with  silvered  locks,  and 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


29 


elevated  and  wrinkled  brows ;  tlieir  counte¬ 
nances  were  marked  with  an  expression  of 
blended  gravity  and  simplicity,  their  staves  were 
crooks,  and  their  whole  appearance  indicated 
the  simple  habits  of  pastoral  life.  They  were 
preceded  by  a  figure  of  peculiar  dignity,  the 
rapt  thoughtfulness  of  whose  countenance  be¬ 
spoke  a  high  communion  with  the  spiritual 
world — a  friendship  with  the  Deity. 

At  a  short  distance  in  their  rear  followed  one 
whose  whole  bearing  was  that  of  a  stern,  yet 
dignified  consciousness  of  power.  He  bore  in 
one  hand  a  rod,  and  in  the  other  a  scroll.  His 
brow  seemed  like  bronze,  and  was  marked  with 
the  lines  of  most  profound  and  somewhat  awful 
thought.  I  gazed  on  this  ancient-looking  group 
until  the  shadows  of  the  foremost  grew  dim  in 
the  distance,  when,  turning  my  eye,  my  atten¬ 
tion  was  immediately  arrested  by  an  exceed¬ 
ingly  interesting  company  of  more  varied  cha¬ 
racter,  and  at  more  irregular  intervals  from  each 
other.  They  were  male  and  female.  Their 
countenances  wore  different  expressions  ;  some 
the  calm  dignity  of  collected  thought,  others 
a  lofty  majesty  that  seemed  something  more 
than  human ;  some  an  affecting  pathos  and 
lonely  sadness,  while  the  features  of  others 
were  radiant  with  the  outbreakings  of  ecstatic 


30 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


emotion.  All,  however,  had  an  indefinable 
correspondence.  I  was  struck  with  an  uplift¬ 
ed  look  of  the  eyes  that  was  common  to  all, 
and  imparted  an  aspect  of  sanctified  inspi¬ 
ration. 

The  first  in  the  group  was  a  lovely  female 
figure,  whose  graceful  form  appeared  to  glide 
along  as  if  moving  on  the  air ;  her  hair  waved 
in  the  breezes,  and  her  countenance  was  an 
expression  of  blended  beauty  and  holiness.  It 
seemed  illuminated  with  a  radiance  from  hea¬ 
ven.  In  one  hand  she  held  above  her  head  a 
timbrel,  while  with  the  other  she  struck  it  with 
enthusiasm.  At  a  distance  methought  I  heard 
her  sing,  “  Awake,  awake,  Deborah  ;  awake, 
awake,  utter  a  song.” 

Next  followed  an  unimpassioned,  aged  man, 
his  eyes  sunken,  and  his  locks  white  like  the 
snows  of  winter ;  mature  thought  and  wise 
counsel  sat  on  his  visage,  blended  with  a  hal¬ 
lowed  complacency  that  seemed  to  say,  “  Speak, 
Lord,  for  thy  servant  heareth.”  He  was  fol¬ 
lowed  by  one  who  was  robed  in  regal  apparel, 
and  whose  head  was  circled  with  a  crown.  He 
appeared  a  prince  of  God’s  people,  anointed 
from  on  high.  His  face  shone  with  rapture  as  he 
moved  buoyantly  along,  with  a  harp  in  his  hand, 
singing  “  O  come,  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord  ; 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


31 


let  us  make  a  joyful  noise  unto  the  Rock  of  our 
salvation.” 

Then  came  one  wrapped  in  a  mantle,  with  a 
solemnity  truly  august ;  his  beard  was  long 
and  silvery ;  his  eye,  though  sunken  with  age, 
gleamed  with  fire  ;  and  on  his  elevated,  bu  in¬ 
dented  brow,  sat  a  solemn  loftiness  of  thought. 
His  motion  was  that  of  strong  old  age,  and  as 
he  passed  I  heard  him  say,  “  Awake,  awake  ; 

put  on  thy  strength,  0  Zion  ;  put  on  thy  beau- 

\ 

tiful  garments,  O  Jerusalem,  the  holy  city.” 

In  the  same  group  I  observed  several  other 
most  interesting  figures,  some  carrying  harps, 
some  rejoicing,  some  weeping.  Among  the 
latter,  one  particularly  affected  me.  He  seemed 
a  man  of  God — his  look  was  that  of  deep  dejec¬ 
tion,  yet  submissive  and  sanctified.  He  uttered 
as  he  passed,  with  a  tone  of  affecting  pathos, 
“  0  that  my  head  were  waters,  and  mine  eyes 
a  fountain  of  tears,  that  I  might  weep  day  and 
night  for  the  slain  of  the  daughter  of  my 
people  !” 

Many  others  of  remarkable  appearance  -were 
passing  before  me,  but  the  sudden  approach  of 
another  group  at  a  distance  drew  away  my 
attention.  The  first  that  caught  my  eye  was  a 
figure  robed  in  camel’s  hair,  with  a  leathern 
girdle  about  his  loins  ;  his  face  was  weather- 


32 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


worn,  as  if  lie  were  accustomed  to  an  exposed 
life.  His  gait  was  dignified  and  grave ;  his 
voice,  owing  to  the  distance,  was  very  indis¬ 
tinct,  but,  associated  with  his  whole  personal 
appearance,  it  was  as  “  the  voice  of  one  crying 
in  the  wilderness.”  Then  followed  one  whose 

m 

step  was  slow  and  godlike.  A  singular  com¬ 
bination  of  power  and  goodness  was  expressed 
in  all  his  bearing.  At  one  moment  I  thought 
it  might  be  an  impersonated  image  of  greatness 
and  might — and  at  another,  of  meekness  and 
lowliness.  An  indescribable  benignity  shone 
on  his  features,  and  yet  a  cloud  of  sorrow 
seemed  to  wreathe  his  brow,  so  that  he  appeared 
indeed  “  a  man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted  with 
grief.” 

Then  followed  a  company  that  could  not  so 
well  be  called  a  group  as  a  file,  owing  to  their 
great  extent.  The  first  seemed  men  of  much 
simplicity  of  character,  unpretending  in  their 
manners,  but  conscious  of  high  powers  and 
great  responsibilities  ;  a  calm  fearlessness  was 
expressed  in  their  countenances.  Among  them 
I  observed  two  figures  that  particularly  inte¬ 
rested  my  attention  ;  the  first  for  his  delightful 
complacency.  His  whole  countenance  beamed 
with  amiable  lowliness  and  compassion,  and 
he  appeared  to  be  uttering  to  himself  as  he 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


33 


passed,  “  God  is  love.”  The  other  looked 
accustomed  to  the  patient  and  wearying  toil 
of  the  laborious  scholar.  An  expression  of 
contemplative  thoughtfulness  was  expanded 
over  his  brow.  He  appeared  like  one  whose 
mind  was  pregnant  with  mighty  thoughts,  and 
who  could  stand  unmoved  in  the  integrity  of  his 
principles  before  the  thrones  of  kings  and  amid 
the  schools  of  philosophers.  Though  his  coun¬ 
tenance  was  that  of  a  great  man,  yet  it  wore  a 
holy  humility  that  seemed  to  say,  “  God  forbid 
that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ !”  After  the  first  few  figures, 
the  number  increased  rapidly,  till  it  appeared  like 
the  hosts  of  war ;  their  countenances  bespoke 
heroic  boldness  and  contempt  of  pain,  as  if  they 
were  familiar  with  perils  and  death — panoplied 
pilgrims,  who  have  here  no  abiding  place,  but 
seek  a  city  eternal  in  the  heavens.  After  some 
hundreds  had  passed,  the  procession  seemed  to 
terminate,  and  dense  darkness  followed  ;  dim, 
phantasmagoric  figures,  more  like  shapes  of 
shadow  than  living  beings,  appeared  for  a  mo¬ 
ment,  and  then  faded  away  in  the  gloom  ;  but 
I  continued  to  gaze  anxiously  for  some  new 
and  more  distinct  appearance,  when  suddenly 
one  emerged,  wearing  the  cowl  and  girdle  of 

a  monk.  In  his  hand  he  grasped  a  rusty 

3 


34 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


parchment  copy  of  the  Bible.  Defiance  was 
written  on  his  brow.  His  step  was  firm  and 
determined,  and,  though  clouds  and  darkness 
surrounded  him,  he  daringly  advanced,  and  they 
seemed  to  retire,  while  light  broke  out  in  his 
footsteps.  The  concourse  that  followed  in  his 
train  became  so  numerous  as  to  confuse  my 
thoughts.  Not  being  able  to  distinguish  them 
minutely,  I  began  to  contemplate  them  in  the 
gross — their  vast  extent — the  new  accessions 
continually  rising  up  to  my  view.  On  looking 
upward,  a  sublime  object  riveted  my  attention. 
It  was  a  cross  of  fire  flaming  out  on  a  dark 
cloud,  and  above  it  was  written,  in  letters  of 
light,  Conquer  by  this.  The  prospect  was  con¬ 
stantly  opening  and  extending  around.  The 
clouds  that  circumscribed  it  at  first  were  rolling 
further  and  further  into  the  distance.  I  fol¬ 
lowed  the  multiplying  host  with  my  eye  as  they 
passed  along,  and  observed  at  each  movement 
in  their  progress  the  ruins  of  overturned  altars, 
gory  with  recent  sacrifices — temples  tottering 
to  the  earth — fragments  of  thrones,  commingled 
with  broken  fetters  and  sundered  chains.  The 
darkness  became  less  and  less,  until,  gather¬ 
ing  itself  into  one  mass,  like  a  cloud  highly 
surcharged  with  lightning,  it  passed  away  with 
a  great  noise,  when  the  whole  prospect  assumed 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


35 


a  thousand  varied  aspects  of  light  and  beauty. 
The  host  I  was  contemplating,  now  so  nume¬ 
rous  as  to  spread  over  the  entire  survey,  cried 
aloud,  “  The  kingdoms  of  this  world  have  be¬ 
come  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  his 
Christ,  and  he  shall  reign  for  ever  and  ever,” 
followed  by  a  shout  from  heaven,  saying,  “  Al- 
lelujah,  for  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth  !” 
at  which  I  awoke,  and  lo,  it  was  a  dream  ! 


CHILDREN  OF  RELIGIOUS  PARENTS. 

“  Train  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go." 

Solomon. 

My  heart  still  bleeds  when  I  recall  the  death- 
scene  of  my  old  friend  W.  He  was  a  good 
man,  and  is  no  doubt  at  rest.  He  labored 
usefully  as  a  local  preacher,  and  scores  were 
converted  from  the  error  of  their  ways  by  his 
instrumentality  ;  but  of  all  his  numerous  chil¬ 
dren,  only  one  daughter,  who  ministered  as  an 
angel  at  his  sick  bed,  had  acknowledged  the 
name  of  Christ.  Two  of  his  sons  had  died  in 
responsible  years,  without  hope,  one  of  them 
in  agonies  of  despair  :  the  spirit  of  the  old  man 
never  recovered  from  the  shock.  Three  were 


36 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


still  living  ;  two,  wandering  lie  knew  not  where, 
the  votaries  of  dissipation,  the  other  confined  in 
a  neighboring  alms-house,  a  maniac.  Seldom 
have  I  known  an  equal  case  of  domestic  afflic¬ 
tion.  He  had  educated  his  family  in  religion 
with  all  diligence,  but  was  now  dying,  with  the 
hope  of  meeting  but  one  of  them  in  heaven. 
The  affections  of  the  parent  were  naturally 
strong  in  him,  but  in  his  last  sickness  they 
were  overpowering.  “  Pray  for  my  children,” 
was  his  pathetic  appeal  to  the  Christian  friends 
who  visited  him — “  O  my  children  !  My  poor 
boys  !  I  go  down  to  the  grave  in  sorrow  for 
them.  Must  they  be  lost  ?  Cannot  prayer  still 
pluck  them  as  brands  from  the  burning  ?  Pray, 
O  pray  for  my  children  !”  The  Christian  parent 
alone  can  feel  the  force  of  this  dying  father’s 
language,  and  even  he  cannot  feel  as  I  do,  while 
recalling  the  unutterable  anxiety  of  his  ema¬ 
ciated  features,  bathed  as  they  were  with  the 
tears  of  paternal  tenderness.  Ah !  it  is  on 
the  margin  of  eternity — it  is  when  the  soul, 
full  of  unspeakable  solicitude,  feels  that  it  is 
passing  returnlessly  away,  that  the  affections 
receive  a  depth  of  pathos  they  never  had  be¬ 
fore.  It  is  then,  too,  that  we  see  things  as 
they  are  ; — valuable  only  so  far  as  they  relate 
to  the  endless  state  into  which  we  are  passing 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


37 


It  is  then,  mistaken  parent,  that  thou  wilt 
wish  to  see  thy  child  lying,  with  the  hopes 
and  woes  of  Lazarus,  at  the  gate  of  the  rich 
man,  rather  than  enjoying,  without  God,  the 
admiration  or  wealth  for  which  thou  art  now  so 
anxiously  training  it. 

The  old  man  expired,  praying  for  his  chil¬ 
dren,  and  his  prayer  was  not  altogether  in  vain  ; 
for  “  God  is  not  slack  concerning  his  promises  ; 
and  he  has  assured  the  Christian  parent  that 
“  it  shall  be  well  with  him,  and  his  children 
after  him  that  “  the  generation  of  the  upright 
shall  be  blessed.”  His  poor  maniac  son  has 
since  been  restored,  and  is  now  seen  “  sitting 
at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  clothed  and  in  his  right 
mind.”  His  name  is  on  the  temperance  pledge 
and  the  church  book,  and  I  trust  it  is  “  written 
in  heaven.”  One  of  his  brothers  has  also  been 
reclaimed,  and  the  other  still  lives,  and  is  there¬ 
fore  within  the  reach  of  the  many  prayers  which 
have  ascended  for  him. 

I  have  not  introduced  this  case  in  order  to 
sketch  it,  but  to  append  a  few  thoughts  on  an 
important  subject.  It  is  an  interesting  question 
why  the  children  of  religious  parents  are  so 
seldom  converted,  and  not  unfrequently  are 
more  hostile  to  religion  than  those  who  have 
had  no  early  religious  training.  The  reasons 


38 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


usually  assigned  are,  that  they  become  disgust¬ 
ed  with  religion  by  the  importunity  of  their 
parents  ;  that  severe  early  restraints  become 
irksome,  and  react ;  that  the  imperfections  which 
they  observe  in  the  domestic  conduct  of  their 
relatives  destroy  their  confidence,  &c.,  &c. 
I  doubt  most  of  the  usual  reasoning  on  this 
subject.  It  may  apply  in  particular  cases,  but 
it  does  not  solve  the  whole  problem.  Where 
these  defects  have  not  existed,  the  result  has 
been  the  same.  The  most  painful  examples  I 
have  known  were  in  the  families  of  devoted 
and  judicious  ministers,  some  of  whose  chil¬ 
dren,  whom  1  can  at  this  moment  recall,  are 
reeling  to  the  grave  drunkards.  I  think  the 
reason  lies  deeper  than  is  usually  conjectured. 
There  is  a  profound  fault  somewhere  in  our 
system  of  religious  training.  The  constitution 
of  the  human  mind  requires  the  Scriptural  mode 
of  enforcing  religion,  and  admits  of  no  other, 
and  this  is  not  the  mode  adopted  in  the  religious 
education  of  children.  Let  me  explain. 

We  have  two  classes  of  habits,  passive  and 
active.  The  facility  of  the  former  is  diminished, 
while  that  of  the  latter  is  increased,  by  exercise. 
The  surgeon,  in  the  beginning  of  his  profession, 
may  feel  a  painful  sympathy  for  the  sufferings 
of  his  patient.  This  very  sympathy  may  un- 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


39 


nerve  his  hand,  and  embarrass  his  operation. 
By  familiarity  with  suffering  his  sympathies 
harden — the  passive  susceptibility  abates,  until 
the  agonies  of  his  writhing  subject  scarcely 
discompose  his  feelings.  But  with  this  de¬ 
crease  of  feeling  there  is  an  increase  of  tact 
in  the  use  of  his  instruments — the  active  habit, 
is  improved,  so  that  the  most  unfeeling  operators 
are  generally  the  most  accurate  and  secure. 
The  experience  of  the  drunkard  is  another 
example  ;  in  proportion  as  he  advances  in  his 
vicious  habit  does  his  susceptibility  of  agreeable 
excitement  diminish.  The  draught  that  at  first 
intoxicated  becomes  powerless,  and,  to  have 
effect,  must  be  increased  as  he  advances. 

This  interesting  law  applies  equally  to  our 
moral  nature.  Let  an  individual  be  passive, 
but  inactive,  amid  the  examples  and  admoni¬ 
tions  of  religion,  and  he  will  inevitably  dege¬ 
nerate.  So  well  known  is  this  fact,  that  the 
popular  language,  without  scrutinizing  the  rea¬ 
son,  has  characterized  such  as  “  gospel  hard¬ 
ened.”  The  most  thrilling  appeals  of  truth  fall 
on  their  ears  like  the  breath  of  the  wind,  while 
others,  a  hundred-fold  more  debased  in  vice,  but 
less  accustomed  to  religious  motives,  quake  with 
trembling.  Now,  does  not  this  consideration 
explain  the  irreligion  of  the  children  of  religious 


40 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


parents  ?  They  witness  constantly  examples  of 
religion,  but  is  it  the  case  that  parents  labor 
directly  for  their  conversion  ?  It  is  to  be  feared 
that  direct  efforts  for  the  salvation  of  children 
are  rare.  We  teach  them  its  doctrines,  and 
discipline  them  to  some  of  its  moralities,  but  do 
we  treat  them  as  the  gospel  treats  sinners — • 
urging  them  to  immediate  repentance  and  faith 
as  the  means  of  regeneration  and  the  ground  of 
all  true  practical  virtue  ?  I  have  often  thought,  in 
my  observations  on  Christian  families,  that  the 
indirectness  with  which  religious  impressions 
were  made  was  exactly  adapted  to  habituate 
the  mind  to  easy  resistance.  Witnessing  daily 
the  examples  of  religion  without  any  active 
participation  in  them,  they  are  preparing  either 
to  doubt  and  despise  all  religion,  or  hang  on  our 
congregations  lifeless  moralists. 

Our  religious  feelings  must  be  active,  or  they 
will  decline.  Like  the  vigor  of  the  body,  they 
depend  upon  exercise.  Nothing  could  more 
effectually  benumb  the  heart  of  a  philanthropist, 
than  to  observe  daily  the  miseries  of  the  suffer¬ 
ing  without  an  effort  to  relieve  them. 

Let  not,  then,  the  Christian  parent  try  to  in¬ 
troduce  his  child  to  religion  by  a  gradual  process 
of  discipline — this  is  good  in  its  place — but  let 
him  first  teach  and  urge  an  immediate  renewal 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


41 


of  the  heart — the  same  as  is  necessary  in  an 
adult  sinner,  for  sin  is  as  radical  in  the  nature 
of  a  child  as  in  that  of  a  man  of  threescore 
years  and  ten — and  then,  being  introduced  to 
the  active  habits  of  religion,  both  inward  and 
outward,  they  will  grow  with  its  growth. 

These  thoughts  suggest  an  admonition  to  the 
children  of  religious  families.  How  great  are 
their  privileges  !  The  light  of  heaven  shines 
upon  their  infant  brows  in  the  very  cradle. 
Their  house  is  a  miniature  sanctuary,  with  its 
altar  of  morning  and  evening  sacrifice.  The 
oracles  of  truth  speak  to  them  daily  with  wiser 
counsels  than  angels  could  utter.  The  sweet¬ 
est  affections  of  life  are  made  to  them  vehicles 
of  religious  influence.  How  can  it  be  possible 
for  a  child  to  grow  up  in  habitual  resistance  of 
all  these  appeals,  and  not  suffer  seriously  in  his 
moral  susceptibility  ?  His  heart  must  become 
indurated.  These  blessings  will  be  either  a 
savor  of  life  unto  life,  or  of  death  unto  death. 

Child  of  many  prayers !  thou  art  blessed 
indeed  ;  but  0  !  be  warned  that  thy  mercies 
turn  not  to  curses,  and  that  the  sweet  memories 
of  thy  home  be  not  imbittered  through  eternity. 


42 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


THE  DUEL. 

“  Blood-guiltiness  /” — Psalmist. 

About  four  miles  from  N - is  an  extensive 

grove,  well  known  as  the  scene  of  several  fatal 
duels.  As  I  passed  it  one  morning  on  my  way 
to  my  appointment  in  that  town,  I  perceived  a 
horse  and  vehicle  among  the  trees,  guarded  by 
a  solitary  man,  who  appeared  to  be  the  driver. 
My  suspicions  were  immediately  aroused,  but 
I  rode  on. 

About  a  mile  beyond  I  met  another  carriage, 
containing  four  persons,  besides  the  driver,  and 
hastening  with  all  speed.  My  fears  were  con¬ 
firmed,  and  I  could  scarcely  doubt  that  another 
scene  of  blood  was  about  to  be  enacted  in  those 
quiet  solitudes.  What  was  my  duty  in  the  case  ? 
I  knew  too  well  the  tenacity  of  those  fictitious 
and  absurd  sentiments  of  honor  which  pre¬ 
vailed  in  that  section  of  the  country,  and  which 
gave  to  the  duel  a  character  of  exalted  chivalry, 
to  hope  that  my  interference  could  be  success¬ 
ful  ;  yet,  thought  I,  it  is  my  duty  to  rebuke  the 
sin,  if  I  cannot  prevent  it,  and  in  the  name  of 
my  Lord  I  will  do  it.  As  quick  as  the  thought, 
I  wheeled  about,  and  returned  with  the  utmost 
speed  to  the  grove. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


43 


The  second  carriage  had  arrived,  and  was 
fastened  to  a  tree.  I  rode  up  to  it,  fastened  my 
horse  near  it,  and  throwing  the  driver  a  piece 
of  silver,  requested  him  to  guard  him.  While 
threading  my  way  into  the  forest,  my  thoughts 
were  intensely  agitated  to  know  how  to  present 
myself  most  successfully.  The  occasion  ad¬ 
mitted  of  no  delay.  I  hastened  on,  and  soon 
emerged  into  an  oval  space  surrounded  on  all 
sides  by  the  dense  woods.  At  the  opposite 
extremities  stood  the  principals,  their  boots 
drawn  over  their  pantaloons,  their  coats,  vests, 
and  hats  off,  and  with  handkerchiefs  tied  over 
their  heads,  and  tightly  belting  their  waists. 
A  friend  and  a  surgeon  were  conversing  with 
each,  while  the  seconds  were  about  midway 
between  them,  arranging  the  dreadful  conflict. 
One  of  the  principals,  the  challenged,  appeared 
but  about  twenty  years  old  ;  his  countenance 
was  singularly  expressive  of  sensibility,  but 
also  of  cool  determination.  The  other  had  a 
stout,  ruffian-like  bearing,  a  countenance  easy, 
but  sinister  and  heartless,  and  seemed  impatient 
to  wreak  his  vengeance  on  his  antagonist. 

I  advanced  immediately  to  the  seconds,  and 
declared  at  once  my  character  and  my  object. 
“  Gentlemen,”  said  I,  “  excuse  my  intrusion  ;  I 
am  a  minister  of  the  gospel ;  I  know  not  the 


44 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


merits  of  this  quarrel,  but  both  my  heart  and  my 
office  require  me  to  mediate  a  peace  between 
the  parties,  if  possible.  Is  it  not  possible  ?” 

“  Sir,”  replied  one  of  them,  “  the  utmost  has 
been  done  to  effect  it,  without  success,  and  this 
is  no  place  for  further  attempts.” 

“  Under  any  circumstances,  in  any  place, 
gentlemen,”  I  replied,  “  it  is  appropriate  to  pre¬ 
vent  murder,  and  such,  in  the  sight  of  God,  is 
the  deed  you  are  aiding.  It  must  not  be,  gen¬ 
tlemen  :  in  the  name  of  the  law,  which  prohibits 
it — in  the  name  of  your  friends,  the  principals — 
in  the  name  of  God,  who  looks  upon  you  in  this 
solitary  place,  I  beseech  you,  stop  it  at  once  ; 
at  least,  wash  your  own  hands  from  the  blood 
of  these  men ;  retire  from  the  field,  and  refuse 
to  assist  in  their  mutual  murder.” 

My  emphatic  remonstrance  had  a  momentary 
effect ;  they  seemed  not  indisposed  to  come  to 
terms,  if  I  could  get  the  concurrence  of  the 
principals. 

I  passed  immediately  to  the  oldest  of  them 
His  countenance  became  more  repulsive  as  I 
approached  him  ;  it  was  deeply  pitted  with  the 
small-pox,  and  there  was  upon  it  the  most 
Satanic,  cold-blooded  leer  I  ever  witnessed  on 
a  human  face.  He  had  given  the  challenge. 
I  besought  him,  by  every  consideration  of  hu- 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


45 


inanity  and  morality,  to  recall  it.  I  referred  to 
the  youth  and  inexperience  of  his  antagonist, 
the  conciliatory  disposition  of  the  seconds,  the 
fearful  consequences  to  his  soul  if  he  should 
fall,  the  withering  remorse  which  must  ever 
follow  him  if  he  should  succeed. 

He  evidently  thirsted  for  the  blood  of  his 
opponent ;  but  observing  that  his  friend  and  the 
surgeon  seconded  my  reasoning,  he  replied, 
with  undissembled  reluctance,  that  he  gave  the 
challenge  for  sufficient  reasons  ;  if  they  were 
removed,  he  might  recall  it,  but  never  other¬ 
wise. 

I  passed  to  the  other.  I  admonished  him  of 
the  sin  he  was  about  to  perpetrate,  and  referred 
to  his  probable  domestic  relations.  The  allu¬ 
sion  touched  his  heart ;  he  suddenly  wiped  a 
tear  from  his  eye.  “  Yes,  sir,”  said  he,  “  there 
are  hearts  which  would  break  if  they  knew  I 
were  here.”  I  referred  to  my  conversation  with 
the  seconds  and  the  other  principal,  and  re 
marked  that  nothing  was  now  necessary  to 
effect  a  reconciliation  but  his  retraction  of  the 
language  which  had  offended  his  adversary. 
“  Sir,”  he  replied,  planting  his  foot  firmly  on 
the  earth,  and  assuming  a  look  which  would 
have  been  sublime  in  a  better  cause — “  Sir,  I 
have  but  declared  the  truth  respecting  that  man, 


46 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


and  though  I  sink  into  the  grave,  I  will  not 
sanction  his  villainous  character  by  a  retrac¬ 
tion.”  I  reasoned  with  increased  vehemence 
but  no  appeal  to  his  judgment  or  his  heart  could 
shake  his  desperate  firmness.  My  heart  bled 
over  this  young  man,  and  I  left  him  with  tears, 
which  I  have  no  doubt  he  would  have  shared 
under  other  circumstances.  What  could  I  do 
further  ?  I  appealed  again  to  the  principal, 
but  he  spurned  me  with  a  cool  smile  ;  I  flew  to 
the  seconds,  and  requested  them  on  any  terms 
to  adjust  the  matter  and  save  the  shedding  of 
blood.  But  they  had  already  measured  the 
ground,  and  were  ready  to  arrange  the  princi¬ 
pals.  “  Gentlemen,”  said  I,  “  the  blood  of  this 
dreadful  deed  be  upon  your  souls  ;  I  have  ac¬ 
quitted  myself  of  it ;”  and  I  proceeded  from  the 
arena  toward  my  horse. 

What  were  my  emotions  as  I  turned  away  in 
despair  !  What !  thought  I ;  must  it  proceed  ? 
Is  there  no  expedient  to  prevent  it  ?  In  a  few 
minutes  one  or  both  of  these  men  may  be  in 
eternity,  accursed  for  ever  with  “  blood-guilti¬ 
ness  !”  Can  I  not  pluck  them  as  brands  from 
the  burning  ?  My  spirit  was  in  a  tumult  of 
anxiety.  In  a  moment,  as  the  principals  were 
taking  their  places,  I  was  again  on  the  ground, 
standing  on  the  line  between  them.  “  Sirs  !” 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  47 

I  exclaimed,  “  in  the  name  of  God,  I  adjure  you 
stop  this  murderous  work.  It  must  not,  it  can¬ 
not  proceed.” 

“  Knock  him  down,”  cried  the  elder  duelist, 
with  a  fearful  imprecation. 

“  Sir,”  said  the  younger,  “  I  appreciate  your 
motives,  but  demand  of  you  to  interfere  no  more 
with  these  arrangements.” 

The  seconds  seized  me  by  the  arm,  and 
compelled  me  to  retire.  But  I  warned  them  at 
every  step.  Never  before  did  I  feel  so  deeply 
the  value  and  hazard  of  the  human  soul.  My 
remarks  were  without  effect,  except  on  one  of 
the  friends  of  the  younger  principal.  “  This  is 
a  horrible  place,”  said  he  ;  “I  cannot  endure  it;” 
and  he  turned  away  with  me  from  the  scene. 

“  Now,  then,  for  it,”  said  one  of  the  seconds, 
as  they  returned  ;  “  take  your  places.”  Shud- 
deringly  I  hastened  my  pace  to  escape  the  result. 

“  One,  two” — the  next  sound  was  lost  in  the 
explosion  of  the  pistols.  “0  God!”  shrieked 
a  voice  of  agony.  I  turned  round  ;  the  younger 
principal,  with  his  hand  to  his  face,  shrieked 
again,  quivered,  and  fell  to  the  earth.  I  rushed 
to  him.  With  one  hand  he  clung  to  the  earth, 
the  fingers  penetrating  the  sod,  with  the  other 
he  grasped  his  left  jaw,  which  was  shattered 
with  a  horrid  wound.  I  turned  with  faintness 


48  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

from  the  sight.  The  charge  had  passed  through 
the  left  side  of  the  mouth,  crashing  the  teeth, 
severing  the  jugular,  and  passing  out  at  the 
back  of  the  head,  laying  open  entirely  one  side 
of  the  face  and  neck.  In  this  ghastly  wound, 
amid  blood  and  shattered  teeth,  had  he  fixed 
his  grasp  with  a  tenacity  which  could  not  be 
moved.  Bleeding  profusely,  and  convulsive 
with  agony,  he  lay  for  several  minutes,  the 
most  frightful  spectacle  I  had  ever  witnessed. 
The  countenances  of  the  spectators  expressed 
a  conscious  relief  when  it  was  announced  by 
the  surgeon  that  death  had  ended  his  agony. 
Meanwhile  the  murderer,  with  his  party,  had 
left  the  ground. 

One  of  the  company  was  dispatched,  on  my 
horse,  to  communicate  the  dreadful  news  to  the 
family  of  the  victim.  The  dead  young  man 
was  cleansed  from  his  blood,  and  borne  imme¬ 
diately  to  the  carriage.  I  accompanied  it  into 

N - .  It  stopped  before  a  small,  but  elegant 

house.  The  driver  ran  to  the  door  and  rapped 
An  elderly  lady  opened  it  with  frantic  agitation, 
at  the  instant  when  we  were  lifting  the  ghastly 
remains  from  the  carriage.  She  gazed,  as  if 
thunderstruck,  for  a  moment,  and  fell  fainting 
in  the  doorway.  A  servant  removed  her  into 
tho  parlor,  and  as  we  passed  with  the  corpse 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS  49 

into  a  rear  room,  I  observed  her  extended  on 
a  sofa  as  pale  as  her  hapless  son.  We  had  just 
laid  the  body  on  a  table — the  stiffened  hand 
still  grasping  the  wound — when  a  young  lady, 
tastefully  attired  in  white,  and  with  a  face  deli¬ 
cately  beautiful,  rushed  into  the  room  and  threw 
her  arms  around  it,  weeping  with  uncontrollable 
emotion,  and  exclaiming  with  agony  of  feel¬ 
ing,  “  My  brother  ! — my  dear,  dear  brother  ! — 
Can  it  be — O,  can  it  be  ?”  The  attendants  tore 
her  away.  I  shall  never  forget  the  look  of  utter 
wretchedness  she  wore  as  they  led  her  past 
me,  her  eyes  suffused  with  tears,  and  her  bosom 
stained  with  her  brother’s  blood. 

This  unfortunate  young  man  was  of  New- 
England  origin.  He  had  settled  in  the  town 

of  N - ,  where  his  business  prospered  so  well 

that  he  had  invited  his  mother  and  sister  to 
reside  with  him.  His  home,  endeared  by  gen¬ 
tleness  and  love,  and  every  temporal  comfort, 
was  a  scene  of  unalloyed  happiness  ;  but  in  an 
evil  hour  he  yielded  to  a  local  and  absurd  pre¬ 
judice,  a  sentiment  of  honor,  falsely  so  called, 
which  his  education  should  have  taught  him  to 
despise.  He  was  less  excusable  than  his  mali¬ 
cious  murderer,  for  he  had  more  light  and  better 
sentiments.  This  one  step  ruined  him  and  his 

happy  family.  He  was  interred  the  next  day, 

4 


50 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


with  the  regrets  of  the  whole  community.  His 
poor  mother  never  left  the  house  till  she  was 
carried  to  her  grave,  by  his  side.  She  died 
after  a  delirious  fever  of  two  weeks’  duration, 
throughout  which  she  ceased  not  to  implore 
the  attendants,  with  tears,  to  rescue  her  hapless 
son  from  the  hands  of  assassins,  who  she  ima¬ 
gined  kept  him  concealed  for  their  murderous 
purpose.  His  sister  still  lives,  but  poor  and 
broken-hearted.  Her  beauty  and  her  energies 
nave  been  wasted  by  sorrow,  and  she  is  de¬ 
pendent  on  others  for  her  daily  bread. 

I  have  heard  some  uncertain  reports  of  his 
antagonist ;  the  most  probable  of  which  is,  that 
he  died  three  years  after  of  the  yellow  fever  at 
New-Orleans,  raging  with  the  horrors  of  re¬ 
morse.  Such  was  the  local  estimation  of  this 
bloody  deed,  that  scarcely  an  effort  was  made 
to  bring  him  to  justice.  Alas,  for  the  influence 
of  fashionable  opinion  !  It  can  silence,  by  its 
dictates,  the  laws  of  man  and  of  God,  and  exalt 
murder  to  the  glory  of  chivalry. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


51 


BISHOP  ASBURY. 

“  A  workman  that  needeth  not  to  be  ashamed.  ’ 

St.  Paul. 

To  have  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  the  great 
and  good  Asbury  may  well  be  considered  a 
distinguished  honor — his  autographs  on  the 
ordination  certificates  of  the  fathers  of  the 
church  are  precious  mementoes,  and  more 
satisfactory  authentications  of  their  ministry 
than  could  be  the  sign  manual  of  any  pope, 
archbishop,  or  other  supposed  successor  of  the 
apostles.  If  there  are  any  episcopal  seats  in 
heaven,  assuredly  there  are  few  prelates  since 
St.  Paul  who  will  sit  above  Francis  Asbury. 

His  marked  characteristics  are  few,  but  re¬ 
markably  strong.  They  are  not  painted,  in  our 
conception  of  his  character,  but  sculptured. 
He  was  altogether  a  most  wonderful  man. 
Born  in  lowly  circumstances,  called  early  to 
the  ministry,  and  when  in  it  burdened  with 
labors  truly  amazing,  he  had  but  little  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  mental  cultivation.  Yet  he  acquired 
(how,  is  inconceivable)  a  knowledge  of  Latin, 
Greek,  and  Hebrew  ;  he  could  read  them,  and 
consulted  them  in  studying  the  sacred  text. 
He  was  also  singularly  familiar  with  history. 


52 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


especially  ecclesiastical  history.  Church  po¬ 
lity,  in  all  its  varieties,  ancient  and  modern,  he 
had  studied  thoroughly,  and  referred  to  con¬ 
stantly.  In  mental  and  moral  science  he  was 
more  than  a  mere  reader.  In  natural  philo¬ 
sophy  he  was  generally  accurate.  He  was  a 
more  extensive  reader  than  is  generally  sup¬ 
posed.  He  had  no  knowledge  of  mathematics, 
and  his  arithmetic  was  altogether  original — 
logical,  not  mechanical.  He  possessed  an  al¬ 
most  intuitive  discernment  of  human  character, 
and  was  a  remarkable  physiognomist.  He 
had  frequently  surprised  a  whole  conference  by 
stating  the  character  of  candidates  whom  he 
had  never  seen  before.  He  had  a  rare  facility 
in  contracting  the  acquaintance  of  strangers. 
He  was  frequently  humorous,  happy  at  repartee, 
and  always  ready  for  any  labor,  however  oner¬ 
ous  or  sudden.  An  illustration  occurs  to  my 
memory.  At  the  time  my  friend  E.  H.  was  sta¬ 
tioned  in  B - ,  knowing  that  he  would  spend 

a  night  there  on  his  way  to  the  L - -  Confer¬ 

ence,  he  made  arrangements  for  him  to  preach 
an  anniversary  sermon  for  a  charitable  society 
just  struggling  into  life,  and  advertised  the  ap¬ 
pointment  as  extensively  as  possible  in  the 
public  prints.  Toward  evening  the  old  bishop 
arrived,  wearied  with  a  long  and  tedious  jour- 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


53 


ney.  At  an  early  hour  the  house  was  crowded 
— the  services  commenced.  He  arose,  and 
read  for  his  text  2  Corinthians  viii,  8,  “  I  speak 
not  by  commandment,  but  by  occasion  of  the 
forwardness  of  others,  and  to  prove  the  sin¬ 
cerity  of  your  love.”  The  felicity  of  the  text 
and  of  the  discourse  was  universally  observed. 

If  the  classical  motto  is  true,  Perseverantia 
vincit  omnia ,  (Perseverance  conquers  all  things,) 
he  was  capable  of  greatness  in  any  department 
of  human  ambition,  for  his  great  master  trait 
was  a  firmness  of  purpose  which  no  hostility 
could  shake  and  no  allurement  seduce.  When 
once  he  entered  on  his  immense  labors  in 
America,  his  destiny  was  fixed.  His  indomi¬ 
table  energy  bore  him  onward  through  journeys 
long  and  perilous,  labors  arduous  and  inces¬ 
sant,  privations  and  vexations  which  none  of 
his  European  coadjutors  knew,  and  this,  not 
during  a  brief  interval  of  youthful  zeal,  or  of 
circumstances  auspicious  to  an  ardent  ambition, 
but  through  all  possible  discouragements,  and 
through  the  infirmities  of  age,  when  it  was 
necessary  to  assist  him  to  and  from  his  car¬ 
riage,  and  when  he  could  no  longer  stand,  but 
sat  in  the  pulpit, — till,  in  fine,  he  dropped  ex¬ 
hausted  into  the  grave.  He  was  eminently  a 
man  of  one  work,  and  in  that  work  he  was  im- 


54 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


pelled  by  a  quenchless  zeal,  which  allowed  no 
leisure  for  any  other  consideration.  It  drew 
him  away  from  his  native  land  and  parental 
home,  and  permitted  no  return.  It  induced  him 
to  forego  the  felicities  of  domestic  life,  and  5o 
pass  through  a  long  career  without  a  local  ha 
bitation  or  a  resting  place.  He  was  a  noble 
example  of  an  evangelical  bishop.  He  pos¬ 
sessed  all  the  personal  dignity  of  the  episcopal 
office,  without  any  of  the  assumed  honors  and 
luxurious  exemptions  which  are  usually  con¬ 
nected  with  it.  While  he  directed  with  in¬ 
flexible  authority  the  ministerial  host  of  his 
vast  diocese,  he  transcended  the  meanest  of 
them  in  sufferings,  labors,  and  journeyings. 
Fifty-five  years  he  was  a  preacher,  and  forty-five 
of  them  he  spent  on  our  continent.  It  has  been 
estimated  that  he  satin  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
four  annual  conferences,  and  consecrated  about 
four  thousand  ministers. 

I  have  said  that  his  labors  and  sufferings 
were  unequaled  by  those  of  his  transatlantic 
coadjutors.  He  traveled  usually  about  six 
thousand  miles  a  year,  which  exceeded  the 
journeyings  of  Wesley.  Wesley’s  field  was 
much  less  extended,  and  much  more  comfort¬ 
able  in  every  respect.  He  was  in  his  own 
country — had  the  best  facilities  for  traveling— 


SKETCHES  AN D  INCIDENTS. 


55 


and  moved  through  a  nation  supplied  with  all 
the  conveniences  of  life.  Asbury  was  a  fo¬ 
reigner,  and  lived  among  us  at  a  period  of  pro¬ 
found  antipathy  toward  his  native  land ;  but 
when  most  others  fled  from  the  field  he  re¬ 
mained,  even  though  concealment  was  neces¬ 
sary.  The  country  was  new  and  vast,  yet  he 
traveled  over  its  length  and  breadth,  now 
through  its  older  settlements,  and  then  along 
its  frontier  lines,  climbing  mountains,  fording 
streams,  sleeping  under  the  trees  of  the  forest, 
or  finding  shelter  for  his  wearied  frame  in  log 
cabins. 

Whitefield,  though  he  traveled  over  the  same 
continent,  confined  himself  to  its  Atlantic  cities, 
where  every  convenience  was  lavishly  afforded 
him.  Asbury  pushed  his  course  to  the  remotest 
frontier,  traveling  frequently  with  the  emigra¬ 
ting  caravan  for  protection  from  the  savage,  and 
thanking  God  for  the  coarse  fare  which  was 
afforded  him  in  the  hut  of  the  back- woods¬ 
man.  Whitefield’s  theological  opinions  agreed 
with  the  errors  of  the  dominant  churches,  and 
conciliated  their  favor.  Asbury’s  were  de¬ 
tested  by  them  as  among  the  worst  forms  of 
heresy.  Methodism  had  commenced  before  his 
arrival  on  our  continent,  and  no  doubt  would 
have  prospered  more  or  less,  but  to  his  energy 


56 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


must  be  ascribed  its  wonderful  progress.  Spread 
by  his  exertions,  no  barrier  could  stand  before 
it ;  it  broke  out  on  the  right  and  on  the  left ; 
his  incessant  preaching  and  ceaseless  travel¬ 
ing,  now  in  the  north  and  then  in  the  south, 
now  in  the  east  and  then  in  the  west,  gave  it 
almost  an  omnipresent  and  simultaneous  action 
through  all  the  states.  Though  at  the  com¬ 
mencement  of  his  labors  in  this  country 
there  were  but  six  hundred  members  in  the 
church,  when  he  fell  it  was  victoriously  at 
the  head  of  an  army  of  two  hundred  and  twelve 
thousand ,  who  were  still  exulting  in  their 
strength,  and  pressing  on  to  the  spiritual  con 
quest  of  the  land,  like  the  hosts  of  war  to  the 
charge  ! 

Wonderful  man  !  many  of  similar,  but  none 
of  equal  powers,  have  followed  in  his  footsteps. 
With  a  ministry  of  such  spirits,  the  regenera¬ 
tion  of  our  race  would  be  the  achievement  of  a 
single  age.  Such  a  ministry,  warring  with  the 
mighty  agencies  of  evil  in  our  world,  would 
present  the  sublime  spectacle  of  Milton’s  battle 
of  the  angels.  And  such  a  ministry  (soul¬ 
stirring  thought!)  is  practicable.  It  was  not 
the  possession  of  those  powers  which  form  the 
prerogatives  of  genius  that  made  Asbury  what 
he  was.  He  displayed  no  splendid  endow- 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


57 


ment.s  of  intellect.  His  greatness  arose  more 
from  dispositions  than  from  talents.  Zeal,  love 
of  man,  and  love  of  God,  armed  him  with  his 
power,  and  these  are  attainable  by  all.  They 
gave  him  that  determination  of  purpose  which 
bore  down  all  that  opposed  it,  and  made  him 
“  mighty  through  God,”  equaling  in  labors  and 
success  Whitefield,  or  even  Wesley,  without 
the  genius  of  the  one  or  the  learning  of  the 
other.  While  most  of  the  great  men  who  guided 
the  early  movements  of  Methodism  are  illustra¬ 
tions  of  the  power  of  sanctified  intellect,  Asbury 
seems  to  have  been  providentially  raised  up  and 
placed  among  them  as  an  example  of  the  power 
of  the  ordinary  faculties  of  man  when  sustained 
by  high  moral  motives,  a  sublime  model,  not 
for  the  talented,  like  the  former,  but  for  all. 
It  has  been  justly  remarked  that  he  occupies 
the  place  in  the  religious  history  of  this  country 
which  Washington  does  in  its  civil  history 
Methodism,  toward  which,  on  this  continent, 
he  sustained  the  relation  of  leader,  has  already 
outstripped  all  other  sects,  but  is  still  in  its 
childhood :  all  its  operations  are  yet  in  their 
incipience.  What  will  be  its  importance  when 
it  reaches  maturity?  Then,  perhaps,  the  honor 
we  claim  for  Asbury  will  be  conceded.  Meth¬ 
odism,  under  Asbury,  gave  the  impulse  which 


58 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


roused  most  other  sects,  and  spread  over  the 
country  the  spirit  of  revivals.  The  time  will 
yet  come  when  he  will  be  acknowledged,  not 
merely  the  father  of  American  Methodism,  but 
of  American  evangelism. 


PRESENTIMENTS. 

“  Secret  things  belong  unto  the  Lord  our  God." 

Moses. 

I  have  lately  received  the  Life  of  Mr.  Watson. 
The  biographer,  in  relating  his  visit  with  Wat¬ 
son  to  a  certain  village,  says,  “  In  passing  the 
church-yard,  Mr.  Watson  pointed  to  a  conspicu¬ 
ous  grave,  and  said,  ‘  The  first  time  I  traveled 
this  way,  that  grave-stone  caught  my  eye,  espe¬ 
cially  the  words  *  *  *,  who  died,  aged  forty- 
two.  A  very  strong  impression,  for  which  I 
could  not  account,  was  immediately  made  upon 
my  mind,  that  I  should  die  at  precisely  the 
same  age.  The  impression  was  both  strong 
and  sudden  ;  I  have  already  passed  that  age, 
and  this  shows  how  little  stress  can  be  justly 
laid  upon  those  sudden  impulses  and  impres¬ 
sions,  of  which  some  people  make  so  much 
account.’  This  impression,  it  appears,  had 
created  considerable  uneasiness  in  the  family 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


59 


of  Mr.  Watson  ;  but  its  effect  on  his  own  mind 
it  is  not  easy  to  determine.” 

Watson  possessed  a  vigorous  mind,  one  that 
we  should  suppose  would  be  the  last  to  indulge 
fanatical  or  whimsical  ideas  ;  we  may  learn, 
therefore,  from  his  case,  the  liability  of  weaker 
minds  to  be  deluded  by  such  impressions. 
Had  he  been  as  susceptible  as  his  anxious 
family,  it  is  not  improbable  that  he  would  have 
worn  away  under  the  impression,  fallen  into 
some  fatal  disease,  and  expired  at  the  precise 
time,  and  all  this  the  result  merely  of  imagina¬ 
tion.  Medical  history  is  full  of  proofs  on  this 
subject,  and  it  is  altogether  probable  that  most 
who  die  under  such  circumstances  fall  victims 
to  their  own  folly,  instead  of  a  revealed  design 
of  Providence.  Cases  have  been  known  where 
criminals  condemned  to  death  have  been  blind¬ 
folded,  laid  upon  the  block,  slightly  struck  on 
the  neck  with  a  cane,  and  taken  up  dead,  with¬ 
out  the  loss  of  a  drop  of  blood. 

It  is  singular  with  what  tenacity  these  morbid 
fears  will  cling  to  the  mind,  especially  when 
the  system  has  been  erervated  by  prolonged 
excitement.  No  class  of  men,  perhaps,  are 
more  exposed  to  such  excitement  than  Meth¬ 
odist  preachers,  by  both  their  extemporaneous 
mode  of  speaking,  which  is  accompanied  often 


60 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


with  intense  emotion,  and  the  frequency  and 
arduousness  of  their  pastoral  labors  and  social 
meetings  ;  and  perhaps  most  of  them  experi¬ 
ence,  at  some  time  or  other,  its  depressing 
effects. 

My  old  friend  M.,  when  stationed  at  B - , 

had  a  brief  and  ludicrous  attack  of  this  species 
of  hypochondria.  He  had  labored  arduously 
during  several  weeks,  and  not  a  few  vexatious 
difficulties  had  disturbed  the  church  and  ha¬ 
rassed  his  mind.  On  returning  late,  and  quite 
exhausted,  one  night,  from  a  meeting  at  which 
he  had  felt  uncommonly  languid  and  dejected* 
he  was  suddenly  seized,  as  he  entered  his  study, 
with  the  impression  that  he  had  offended  God, 
and  would  die  that  very  night.  As  usual  with 
a  diseased  state  of  the  mind,  the  thought  was 
attended  with  profound  melancholy.  Of  course 
he  thought  not  of  sleep,  but  walked  the  floor  in 
agony  for  hours.  Wearied  at  last  by  his  rapid 
paces,  he  seated  himself,  and,  covering  his  face 
with  his  hands,  reclined  his  head  on  a  table. 
Thus  situated,  he  prayed,  wept,  and  trembled, 
and  as  the  time  advanced,  prayed,  wept,  and 
trembled  the  more.  At  last,  in  his  agony,  and 
with  his  hair  on  end,  he  rose  to  pace  again  the 
floor,  when,  lo  !  daylight  was  streaming  in  at 
his  window  !  The  illusion  was  gone,  and  the 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  61 

astonished  man  knew  not  whether  he  ought  to 
smile  or  blush  at  his  weakness.  It  was  a 
weakness,  however,  which  a  superior  mind  can 
more  easily  despise  than  prevent. 

It  was  my  own  misfortune  once  to  suffer 
much  from  one  of  these  presentiments  of  death. 
It  was  received  while  I  was  upon  my  knees  in 
private  prayer.  The  circumstances  were  strong, 
the  impression  at  the  time  was  singularly  clear 
and  forcible,  like  an  intuition.  Subsequent 
circumstances,  too,  seemed  confirmatory  of  it. 
The  very  next  day  an  excellent  Christian  died 
in  the  neighborhood,  who  had  entertained  such 
a  presentiment  for  months,  and  had  even  pro¬ 
vided  his  coffin  for  the  event.  As  the  time 
passed  the  omens  became  stronger  ;  by  an  acci¬ 
dental  exposure  I  took  cold,  was  attacked  with 
cough,  and  confined  to  my  room  with  incipient 
symptoms  of  pulmonary  consumption.  How 
easily  would  some  minds  have  given  way  under 
these  circumstances,  and  have  realized  the 
expected  result !  I  had  not,  however,  been 
lisposed  to  superstitious  fears,  and  knew  the 
caprices  of  the  imagination,  and  its  dangerous 
influence  on  health.  I  therefore  calmly  endea¬ 
vored  to  prepare  my  mind  and  circumstances 
for  any  result,  and  waited  through  the  period  of 
several  weeks,  within  which  I  expected  to  die, 


62 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


and  which  terminated  precisely  with  the  year. 
During  this  time  I  was  confined  to  my  room  ; 
the  impression  was  inseparably  present  ;  I 
treated  it  with  respect,  but  not  with  fear — it 
might  be  from  God,  or  it  might  not.  The  last 
night  came,  but  still  there  were  a  few  hours, 
and  what  might  not  occur  in  them  !  I  watched 
until  midnight,  and  not  until  the  clock  announced 
that  the  last  moment  of  the  year  had  flown  was 
I  clear  from  this  remarkable  illusion.  I  then 
fell  upon  my  knees,  thanked  God  that  I  had 
not  fallen  a  victim  to  this  weakness,  and  prayed 
that  I  might  better  remember  that  “  the  secret 
things  belong  to  the  Lord  our  God ;  but  those 
things  which  are  revealed  belong  unto  us,  and 
to  our  children  for  ever,  that  we  may  do  all 
the  words  of  his  law.”  It  cannot  be  said  that 
God  does  not,  in  rare  instances,  reveal  their 
dying  hours  to  his  people  ;  but  I  never  knew  a 
case  which  could  be  relied  on,  and  the  best 
reasons  apply  against  such  a  course  on  the  part 
of  his  providence. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


63 


ANECDOTES  OF  JESSE  LEE. 

“  A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath.” — Solomon. 

Jesse  Lee  was  a  genuine  specimen  of  the 
first  school  of  Methodist  preachers.  Like  As- 
bury,  he  remained  unmarried,  that  he  might  give 
himself  wholly  to  the  ministry  of  the  word. 
Asbury  prized  him  highly,  and  without  doubt 
wished  his  appointment  as  his  own  coadjutor 
or  successor,  showing  his  confidence  in  his 
abilities  for  the  office,  by  using  him  as  his  sub¬ 
stitute  in  attending  annual  conferences  and 
appointing  the  preachers.  In  labors  he  was 
abundant,  and  many  of  the  churches,  from 
Maine  to  Georgia,  still  preserve  recollections 
of  him.  His  eloquence  was  sometimes  remark¬ 
able,  smiting  the  conscience  with  remorse,  or 
melting  the  heart  with  uncontrollable  emotion. 
His  person  was  large,  and  his  countenance  at 
once  expressive  of  two  traits,  which,  though 
somewhat  opposite,  were  nevertheless  united 
and  predominant  in  his  nature — tenderness  and 
shrewdness.  Though  he  could  weep  with  those 
who  wept,  few  men  have  been  happier  at  repar¬ 
tee.  Satire  is  a  dangerous  weapon,  and  perhaps 
it  was  his  fault,  but  he  often  used  it  with  the 


64 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


best  effect.  Many  a  conceited  gainsayer,  in 
attempting,  after  his  sermons  in  the  open  air, 
to  embarrass  him  on  metaphysical  points,  has 
cowered  beneath  his  replies,  and  retreated  in 
mortification  and  wonder.  My  lamented  old 
friend,  Dr.  Thomas  Sargent,  (himself  one  of 
the  pioneers,)  has  assured  me  that  the  current 
anecdote  of  the  Methodist  preacher’s  reply  to 
two  lawyers  on  extemporary  preaching  actually 
occurred  with  Jesse  Lee.  The  shrewd  itine¬ 
rant  had  been  preaching  in  a  town  during  the 
session  of  the  court,  and  had  dealt  rather  faith¬ 
fully  with  the  lawyers,  two  of  whom  were  dis¬ 
posed  to  make  themselves  merry  at  his  expense. 
The  day  on  which  the  court  adjourned  he  left 
the  place  for  another  appointment.  While 
riding  on  his  way,  he  perceived  the  two  lawyers 
hastening  after  him  on  horseback,  with  evident 
expectations  of  amusement.  They  entered  into 
conversation  with  him  on  extemporaneous 
speaking.  “  Don’t  you  often  make  mistakes  ?” 
said  one  of  them.  “  Yes,  sir.”  “  Well,  what  do 
you  do  with  them  1 — Let  them  go  ?”  “  Some¬ 
times  I  do,”  replied  the  preacher,  drily  ;  “  if 
they  are  very  important,  I  correct  them  ;  if  not, 
or  if  they  express  the  truth,  though  differently 
from  what  I  designed,  why,  I  often  let  them  go. 
For  instance,  if,  in  preaching,  I  should  wish  V? 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


65 


quote  the  text  which  says,  ‘  The  devil  is  a  liar, 
and  the  father  of  it,’  and  should  happen  to  mis¬ 
quote  it,  and  say  he  was  a  ‘  laviyer ,’  &c.,  why, 
it  is  so  near  the  truth,  I  should  probably  let  it 
pass.”  The  gentlemen  of  the  bar  looked  at 
each  other,  and  were  soon  in  advance,  hasten¬ 
ing  on  their  way. 

Many  anecdotes  are  still  related  among  the 
old  Methodists  who  knew  him,  which  illustrate 
his  Christian  meekness.  The  following  is  one. 
I  am  indebted  for  it  to  his  nephew,  Rev.  L.  M. 
Lee,  who  says  the  anecdote  may  be  relied  on 
as  having  really  transpired.  It  was  communi¬ 
cated  to  a  member  of  the  family  under  the  fol¬ 
lowing  circumstances,  by  the  individual  most 
involved  in  the  affair  : — Some  few  years  since 
a  nephew  of  Mr. -Lee,  engaged  in  some  business 
transaction  in  a  store  in  Petersburg,  Virginia, 
and  being  addressed  as  Mr.  Lee,  attracted  the 
attention  of  an  aged  gentleman,  General  P.,  at 
the  same  time  in  the  store,  who  immediately 
accosted  him,  and  asked  if  he  was  a  kinsman 
of  the  Rev.  Jesse  Lee.  On  being  informed  that 
he  was  a  nephew,  the  general  said  he  had  long 
desired  to  see  some  member  of  the  old  minis¬ 
ter’s  family,  in  order  to  communicate  a  circum¬ 
stance  that  once  occurred  between  himself  and 
Mr.  Lee.  On  being  told  that,  it  would  afford 

5 


66 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


him  pleasure  to  hear  anything  concerning  his 
venerable  relative,  the  general  proceeded  to 
relate  in  substance  the  following  narrative  : — 

“  When  I  was  a  young  man,  I  went  to  hear 

Mr.  Lee  preach  at - meeting-house.  There 

was  a  very  large  crowd  in  attendance,  and  a 
great  many  could  not  get  into  the  house.  Among 
others  I  got  near  the  door,  and  being  fond  of 
show  and  frolic,  I  indulged  in  some  indiscretion, 
for  which  Mr.  Lee  mildly,  but  plainly  reproved 
me.  In  an  instant  all  the  bad  feelings  of  my 
heart  were  roused.  I  was  deeply  insulted,  and 
felt  that  my  whole  family  was  disgraced.  I 
retired  from  the  crowd  to  brood  over  the  insult, 
and  meditate  revenge.  It  was  not  long  before 
I  resolved  to  whip  him  before  he  left  the  ground. 
I  kept  the  resolution  to  myself ;  and  watched, 
with  the  eager  intensity  of  resentment,  the  op¬ 
portunity  to  put  it  in  execution.  But  the  con¬ 
gregation  was  dismissed  and  dispersed,  and  I 
saw  nothing  of  the  preacher.  How  he  escaped 
me  I  could  never  learn.  I  looked  on  every 
hand,  scrutinized  every  departing  group,  but 
saw  nothing  of  the  man  I  felt  I  hated,  and  was 
resolved  to  whip.  I  went  home  sullen,  morti¬ 
fied,  and  filled  with  revenge.  My  victim  had 
escaped  me.  But  I  ‘  nursed  my  wrath  to  keep 
it  warm  and  cherished  the  determination  to 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


67 


put  it  into  execution  the  first  time  I  saw  Mr. 
Lee,  although  long  years  should  intervene. 
Gradually,  however,  my  feelings  subsided,  and 
my  impressions  of  the  insult  became  weakei 
and  less  vivid  ;  and  in  the  lapse  of  a  few  years 
the  whole  affair  faded  away  from  my  mind. 
Thirteen  years  passed  over  me,  and  the  im¬ 
petuosity  of  youth  had  been  softened  down  by 
sober  manhood,  and  gradually-approaching  age 
I  was  standing  upon  { the  downhill  of  life.’  On 
a  beautiful  morning  in  the  early  spring,  I  left 
my  residence  to  transact  some  business  in  Pe¬ 
tersburg  ;  and  on  reaching  the  main  road  lead¬ 
ing  to  town,  I  saw,  a  few  hundred  yards  before 
me,  an  elderly-looking  man  jogging  slowly  along 
in  a  single  gig.  As  soon  as  I  saw  him,  it  struck 
me,  That’s  Jesse  Lee.  The  name,  the  man,  the 
sight  of  him  recalled  all  my  recollections  of  the 
insult,  and  all  my  purposes  of  resentment.  I 
strove  to  banish  them  all  from  my  mind.  I  rea¬ 
soned  on  the  long  years  that  had  intervened 
since  the  occurrence  ;  the  impropriety  of  think¬ 
ing  of  revenge,  and  the  folly  of  executing  a 
purpose  formed  in  anger,  and  after  so  long  a 
lapse  of  time.  But  the  more  I  thought,  the 
warmer  I  became.  My  resolution  stared  me  in 
the  face  ;  and  something  whispered  coward  in 
mv  heart  if  I  failed  to  fulfill  it.  My  mind  was 


68 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


in  a  perfect  tumult,  and  my  passions  waxed 
strong.  I  determined  to  execute  my  resolution 
to  the  utmost;  and  full  of  rage  I  spurred  my 
horse,  and  was  soon  at  the  side  of  the  man  that 
I  felt  of  all  others  I  hated  most. 

“  I  accosted  him  rather  rudely  with  the  ques¬ 
tion,  ‘  Are  you  not  a  Methodist  preacher  V 

44  ‘  I  pass  for  one,’  was  the  reply,  and  in  a 
manner  that  struck  me  as  very  meek. 

44  ‘  An’t  your  name  Jesse  Lee  V 

“  ‘  Yes  :  that’s  my  name.’ 

“  4  Do  you  recollect  preaching  in  the  year 
- at - meeting-house  V 

44  ‘  Yes  ;  very  well.’ 

“  4  Well,  do  you  recollect  reproving  a  young 
man  on  that  occasion  for  some  misbehavior  ?’ 

44  After  a  short  pause  for  recollection,  he  re¬ 
plied,  4 1  do.’ 

44  4  Well,’  said  I,  4  I  am  that  young  man  ;  and 
I  determined  that  I  would  whip  you  for  it  the 
first  time  I  saw  you.  I  have  never  seen  you 
from  that  day  until  this  ;  and  now  I  intend  to 
execute  my  resolution  and  whip  you.’ 

44  As  soon  as  I  finished  speaking,  the  old  man 
stopped  his  horse,  and  looking  me  full  in  the 
face,  said,  4  You  are  a  younger  man  than  I  am. 
You  are  strong  and  active  ;  and  I  am  old  and 
feeble.  I  have  no  doubt  but,  if  I  were  disposed 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS 


69 


to  fight,  you  could  whip  me  very  easily  ;  and  it 
would  be  useless  for  me  to  resist.  But  as  a 
“  man  of  God,  I  must  not  strive.”  So  as  you 
are  determined  to  whip  me,  if  you  will  just  wait, 
I  will  get  out  of  my  gig,  and  get  down  on  my 
knees,  and  you  may  whip  me  as  long  as  you 
please.’ 

“  Never,”  said  the  old  general,  “  was  I  so 
suddenly  and  powerfully  affected.  I  was  com¬ 
pletely  overcome.  I  trembled  from  head  to 
foot.  I  would  have  given  my  estate  if  I  had 
never  mentioned  the  subject.  A  strange  weak¬ 
ness  came  over  my  frame.  I  felt  sick  at  heart ; 
ashamed,  mortified,  and  degraded,  I  struck  my 
spurs  into  my  horse,  and  dashed  along  the  road 
with  the  speed  of  a  madman.  What  became 
of  the  good  old  man  I  know  not.  I  never  saw 
him  after  that  painfully-remembered  morning. 
He  has  long  since  passed  away  from  the  earth  ; 
and  has  reaped  the  reward  of  the  good,  the 
gentle,  and  the  useful,  in  a  world  where  ‘  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  find 
eternal  rest.’ 

“  I  am  now  old ;  few  and  full  of  evil  have 
been  the  days  of  the  years  of  my  life,  yet  I  am 
not  now  without  hope  in  God.  I  have  made 
my  peace  with  him  who  is  *  the  Judge  of  the 
quick  and  dead  and  hope  ere  long  to  see  that 


70 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


good  man  of  God  with  feelings  very  different 
from  those  with  which  I  met  him  last.” 

The  old  man  ceased.  A  glow  of  satisfaction 
spread  over  his  features,  and  a  tear  stood  in  his 
eye.  He  seemed  as  if  a  burden  was  removed 
from  his  heart — that  he  had  disencumbered 
himself  of  a  load  that  had  long  pressed  upon 
his  spirits.  He  had  given  his  secret  to  the 
near  relative  of  the  man  he  had  once  intended 
to  injure,  but  whose  memory  he  now  cherished 
with  feelings  akin  to  those  that  unite  the  re¬ 
deemed  to  each  other,  and  bind  the  whole  to 
“  the  Father  of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh.” 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


71 


THE  MORAL  SUBLIME. 

'*  The  sublime  is  an  outward  reflection  of  the  inward 
greatness  of  the  soul.” — Longinus. 

The  moral  sublime  is  the  sublime  in  moral 
action  or  endurance — the  highest  appeal  to 
human  taste.  In  an  extensive  review  of  eccle¬ 
siastical  history  which  I  have  lately  completed, 
I  have  been  struck  with  the  numerous  examples 
which  it  affords  of  this  noble  greatness. 

Profane  history  affords  many  sublime  exam¬ 
ples  of  endurance  and  self-sacrifice.  The  cases 
of  Socrates,  Leonidas,  Regulus,  and  Winkel- 
ried,  sustain  our  confidence  in  humanity  and 
our  hopes  of  the  world.  But  how  far  short  of 
the  illustrious  examples  of  the  church  are  these 
instances  !  There  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  latter, 
arising  from  religious  influence,  which  ap¬ 
proaches  the  sublimity  of  inspiration.  How 
calmly  and  majestically  they  suffer !  What  a 
bearing  of  repose,  like  the  classic  statues  of  the 
gods,  they  wear  at  the  very  stake,  as  if  they 
were  beings  of  a  superior  essence,  immortal, 
and  insensible  to  the  effects  of  the  elements  ! 
The  instances  of  profane  history  are  cases  of 
cool  and  stanch  submission  to  stern  principle 
or  hard  necessity — magnanimous,  indeed,  but  it 


72 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


is  a  dread  magnanimity — a  submission  to  suffer¬ 
ing  that  is  felt  and  endured,  but  not  defied  and 
vanquished.  Those  of  religion  are  examples 
of  calm  triumph — of  majestic  superiority  to 
suffering,  as  if  they  were  conscious  of  being 
“  more  than  conquerors.”  The  former  had  for¬ 
titude,  but  the  latter  courage. 

What  an  impressive  specimen  of  the  moral 
sublime  is  the  last  prayer  of  the  gray-headed 
Polycarp,  at  the  stake  !  He  was  nearly  ninety 
years  old ;  the  veneration  and  affections  of  all 
the  Asiatic  churches  centred  in  him.  After 
being  exposed  to  the  hootings  of  the  populace, 
and  the  aggravations  of  a  mock  trial,  he  was 
led  to  the  place  of  death,  where,  being  bound  and 
all  things  ready  for  the  match,  he  uttered  this 
memorable  prayer,  or  rather  thanksgiving  : — 
“  Father  of  thy  well-beloved  and  blessed  Son 
Jesus  Christ,  through  whom  we  have  received 
the  knowledge  of  thee — God  of  angels  and 
powers,  and  all  creation,  and  of  all  the  family 
of  the  righteous  that  live  before  thee — I  bless 
thee  that  thou  hast  counted  me  worthy  of  this 
day,  and  of  this  hour, — an  hour  in  which  1  am 
to  have  a  share  in  the  number  of  the  martyrs 
and  in  the  cup  of  Christ,  unto  the  resurrection 
of  eternal  life,  both  of  the  soul  and  the  body, 
in  the  incorruptible  felicity  of  the  Holy  Spirit 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


73 


Among  whom  may  I  be  received  this  day,  as  a 
rich  and  acceptable  sacrifice,  which  thou,  the 
faithful  and  true  God,  hast  prepared.  Where¬ 
fore  on  this  account  and  for  all  things  I  praise 
thee,  I  bless  thee,  I  glorify  thee,  through  the 
eternal  High  Priest,  Jesus  Christ,  thy  well- 
beloved  Son.  Through  whom  all  glory  be  to 
thee  with  him  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  both  now  and 
for  ever.  Amen.”  The  flames  curled  over  him 
and  he  was  no  more. 

I  scarcely  know  of  a  more  sublime  picture, 
though  not  an  instance  of  violent  suffering,  than 
that  of  the  death  of  the  venerable  Bede,  as 
described  by  one  of  his  pupils.  He  was  the 
ornament  of  his  country  and  of  the  eighth  cen¬ 
tury,  and  was  employed  at  the  time  of  his 
death  in  rendering  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  into 
the  language  of  the  people,  the  Anglo-Saxon. 
“  Many  nights,”  says  his  disciple,  “  he  passed 
without  sleep,  yet  rejoicing  and  giving  thanks, 
unless  when  a  little  slumber  intervened.  When 
he  awoke  he  resumed  his  accustomed  devo¬ 
tions,  and  with  expanded  hands  never  ceased 
giving  thanks  to  God.  By  turns  we  read,  and 
by  turns  we  wept ;  indeed,  we  always  read  in 
tears.  In  such  solemn  joy  we  passed  fifty 
days  ;  but  during  these  days,  besides  the  lec¬ 
tures  he  gave,  he  endeavored  to  compose  two 


74 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


works ,  one  of  which  was  a  translation  of  St 
John  into  English.  It  has  been  observed  of 
him,  that  he  never  knew  what  it  was  to  do 
nothing.  And  after  his  breathing  became  still 
shorter,  he  dictated  cheerfully,  and  sometimes 
said,  ‘  Make  haste ;  I  know  not  how  long  I  shall 
hold  out ;  my  Maker  may  take  me  away  very 
soon.’  On  one  occasion,  a  pupil  said  to  him, 
*  Most  dear  master,  there  is  yet  one  chapter 
wanting ;  do  you  think  it  troublesome  to  be 
asked  any  more  questions  V  He  answered,  ‘  It 
is  no  trouble ;  take  your  pen  and  write  fast.1 
He  continued  to  converse  cheerfully,  and  while 
his  friends  wept  as  he  told  them  they  would  see 
him  no  more,  they  rejoiced  to  hear  him  say, 
‘  It  is  now  time  for  me  to  return  to  Him  who 
made  me.  The  time  of  my  dissolution  draws 
near.  I  desire  to  be  dissolved  and  to  be  with 
Christ.  Yes,  my  soul  desires  to  see  Christ  in 
his  beauty.’  The  pupil  before  mentioned  said 
to  him,  ‘  Dear  master,  one  sentence  is  still 
wanting.’  He  replied,  ‘  Write  quickly .’  The 
young  man  soon  added,  ‘  It  is  finished.’  He 
answered,  ‘  Thou  hast  well  said,  all  is  now 
finished !  Hold  my  head  with  thy  hands.  I 
shall  delight  to  sit  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room,  on  the  holy  spot  at  which  I  have  been 
accustomed  to  pray,  and  where,  while  sitting, 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


75 


I  can  invoke  my  Father.’  Being  placed  on 
the  floor  of  his  little  room,  he  sung,  ‘  Glory  be 
to  the  Father,  and  to  the  Son,  and  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,’  and  died  as  he  uttered  the  last  word.” 
What  a  scene  for  the  painter !  And  one  has 
painted  it,  not  in  colors,  but  in  equally-expres- 
sive  words  : — 

- Within  his  studious  cell, 

The  man  of  mighty  mind, 

His  cowl’d  and  venerable  brow 
With  sickness  pale,  reclined. 

“  Speed  on !”  Then  flew  the  writer’s  pen, 

With  grief  and  fear  perplex’d ; 

For  death’s  sure  footstep  nearer  drew 
With  each  receding  text. 

The  prompting  breath  more  faintly  came — 

“  Speed  on ! — his  form  I  see — 

That  awful  messenger  of  God, 

Who  may  not  stay  for  me.” 

“  Master ,  'tis  done.”  “  Thou  speakest  well, 
Life  with  thy  lines  kept  pace.” — 

They  bear  him  to  the  place  of  prayer, 

The  death  dew  on  his  face ; 

And  there,  while  o’er  the  gasping  breast 
The  last  keen  torture  stole, 

With  the  high  watchword  of  the  skies, 

Went  forth  that  sainted  soul. 


76 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


THE  CONVERTED  DUTCHMAN. 

“  Now  therefore  ye  are  no  more  strangers  and  foreign 

ers.” — Paul. 

Among  my  old  ministerial  acquaintances  is 
the  quaint  B.  H.,  now,  like  myself,  on  the 
“  sick  list”  of  the  itinerant  host.  He  was  a  pio¬ 
neer  evangelist  among  the  Dutch  settlers  of 
New- York,  and  many  are  the  humorous  anec¬ 
dotes  which  he  gathered  among  those  untutored, 
but  honest-hearted  rustics.  He  had  a  strong 
susceptibility  of  the  humorous,  and  would  often 
relate  his  comico-serious  reminiscences  with 
such  effect  as  to  excite  one  part  of  the  company 
to  tears  and  another  to  laughter,  according  to 
the  serious  or  mirthful  propensity  of  the  hearer. 
One  of  these  anecdotes  I  shall  never  forget.  It 
was  his  favorite,  and  by  repeated  requests  he 
was  induced  to  put  it  on  paper.  I  give  it  in  his 
own  words,  for  the  words  are  essential  to  the 
sketch.  It  is  the  experience  of  a  converted 
Dutchman,  as  stated  by  himself  in  a  class  meet¬ 
ing,  and  has  always  struck  me  as  a  correct  re¬ 
presentation  of  the  workings  of  the  human  heart, 
and  of  the  triumphs  of  grace  over  the  stinted 
views  of  avarice.  He  said, — 

“  Mine  dear  bredren,  I  want  to  tell  you  some 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


77 


mine  experience.  When  de  Metodists  first 
came  into  dese  parts,  I  tot  I  was  doing  bery 
well ;  for  mine  wife  and  I  had  two  sons,  Ned 
and  Jim  ;  and  we  had  a  good  farm  dat  Neddy 
and  I  could  work  bery  well,  so  I  let  Jim  go  out 
to  work  about  fourteen  miles  off  from  home. 
But  de  Metodists  come  into  our  parts,  and 
Neddy  went  to  dare  meeting,  and  he  got  con¬ 
verted,  and  I  tot  we  should  be  all  undone ;  so 
I  told  Ned  he  must  not  go  to  dese  Metodists 
meetings,  for  so  much  praying  and  so  much 
going  to  meeting  would  ruin  us  all.  But  Neddy 
said,  ‘  O  fader,  I  must  serve  de  Lord  and  save 
my  soul.’  But,  I  said,  you  must  do  de  work 
too.  So  I  gave  him  a  hard  stint  on  de  day  of 
dere  meeting ;  but  he  work  so  hard  dat  he  got 
his  stint  done,  and  went  to  de  meeting  after  all. 
While  I  set  on  mine  stoop  and  smoked  mine 
pipe,  I  see  him  go  over  de  hill  to  de  Metodist 
meeting,  and  I  said  to  my  wife,  Elizabet,  we 
shall  be  undone,  for  our  Ned  will  go  to  dese 
meetings  ;  and  she  said,  ‘  What  can  we  do  V 
Well,  I  said,  den  I  will  stint  him  harder  ;  and 
so  I  did  several  times  when  de  meeting  come. 
But  Neddy  worked  hard,  and  sometimes  he  got 
some  boys  to  help  him,  so  dat  he  would  go  off 
to  de  meeting  while  I  set  on  mine  stoop  and 
smoked  mine  pipe.  T  could  see  Ned  go  over 


78 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


de  hill.  I  said  one  day,  0  mine  Got,  what  can 
I  do — dis  boy  will  go  to  dese  meetings,  after 
all  1  can  do!  So  when  Ned  come  home  I 
said,  Ned,  you  must  leave  off  going  to  dese 
meetings,  or  I  will  send  for  Jim  to  come  home 
and  turn  you  away.  But  Neddy  said,  ‘  0  fader, 
I  must  serve  de  Lord  and  save  my  soul.’  Well, 
den,  I  will  send  for  Jim :  so  I  sent  for  Jim ; 
and  when  he  come  home,  den  I  heard  he  had 
been  to  de  Metodist  meeting  where  he  had  lived, 
and  he  was  converted  too.  And  Ned  and  Jim 
both  said,  £  O  fader,  we  must  serve  de  Lord  and 
save  our  souls.’  But  I  said  to  mine  wife,  Dese 
Metodists  must  be  wrong ;  da  will  undo  us  all, 
for  da  have  got  Ned  and  Jim  both ;  I  wish  you 
would  go  to  dare  meeting,  and  you  can  see 
what  is  wrong;  but  Ned  and  Jim  can’t  see  it. 
So  de  next  meeting  day  de  old  woman  went 
wid  Ned  and  Jim  ;  but  I  set  on  mine  stoop,  and 
smoked  mine  pipe.  But  I  said  to  mine  self,  I 
guess  dese  Metodists  have  got  dar  match  to  git 
de  old  woman,  and  she  will  see  what’s  wrong 
So  I  smoked  mine  pipe,  and  looked  to  see  dem 
come  back.  By  and  by  I  see  dem  coming;  and 
when  da  come  near  I  see  de  tears  run  down 
mine  wife’s  face.  Den  I  said,  0  mine  Got,  da 
have  got  de  old  woman  too.  I  tot  I  am  un¬ 
done  ;  for  da  have  got  Ned,  and  Jim,  and  de 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


79 


old  woman.  And  when  da  come  on  de  stoop 
mine  wife  said,  ‘  0  we  must  not  speak  against 
dis  people,  for  da  are  de  people  of  Got.’  But 
I  said  noting,  for  I  had  not  been  to  any  of  de 
meetings,  so  I  was  in  great  trouble.  But  in  a 
few  days  after  I  heard  dat  dare  was  a  Presby¬ 
terian  missionary  going  to  preach  a  little  ways 
off ;  so  I  tot  I  would  go,  for  I  tot  it  would  not 
hurt  anybody  to  go  to  his  meeting ;  and  I  went 
wid  Ned,  and  Jim,  and  mine  wife,  and  he 
preached ;  but  dere  was  noting  done  till  after 
de  meeting  was  over,  and  den  dere  was  two 
young  men  in  de  toder  room  dat  sung  and 
prayed  so  good  as  anybody ;  and  da  prayed 
for  dar  old  fader  too.  And  many  cried,  and  I 
tot  da  prayed  bery  well.  After  dis  I  was  going 
out  of  de  door  to  go  home,  and  a  woman  said 

to  me,  ‘  Mr. - ,  you  must  be  a  happy  man  to 

have  two  such  young  men  as  dem  dat  prayed.’ 
I  said,  Was  that  Ned  and  Jim?  She  said,  ‘Yes.’ 
O,  I  felt  so  mad  to  tink  da  had  prayed  for  me, 
and  exposed  me  before  all  de  people.  But  I 
said  noting,  but  went  home,  and  I  went  right  to 
bed.  But  now  my  mind  was  more  troubled  dan 
ever  before,  for  I  began  to  tink  how  wicked  T 
was  to  stint  poor  Neddy  so  hard,  and  try  to 
hinder  him  from  saving  his  soul — but  I  said 
noting,  and  mine  wife  said  noting ;  so  I  tried 


80 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


to  go  to  sleep ;  but  as  soon  as  I  shut  mine  eyes 
'  I  could  see  Neddy  going  over  de  hill  to  go  to 
his  meeting,  after  he  had  done  his  hard  stint,  so 
tired  and  weary.  Den  I  felt  worse  and  worse  ; 
and  by  and  by  I  groaned  out,  and  mine  wife 
axt  me  4  what’s  de  matter  V  I  said,  I  believe  I 
am  dying.  She  said,  4  Shall  I  call  up  Ned  and 
Jim  V  I  said,  Yes.  And  Jim  come  to  de  bed 
and  said,  4  0,  fader,  what  is  de  matter  V  I  said, 
I  believe  I  am  dying.  And  he  said,  4  Fader, 
shall  I  pray  for  you  V  I  said,  0  yes,  and  Neddy 
too.  And  glory  be  to  God,  I  believe  he  heard 
prayer ;  for  tough  I  felt  mine  sins  like  a  moun¬ 
tain  load  to  sink  me  down  to  hell,  I  cried,  0 
Got,  have  mercy  on  me,  a  poor  sinner ;  and  by 
and  by  I  feel  something  run  all  over  me,  and  split 
mine  heart  all  to  pieces,  and  I  felt  so  humble 
and  so  loving  dat  I  rejoice  and  praise  Got ;  and 
now  I  am  resolved  to  serve  Got  wit  Ned,  and 
Jim,  and  mine  wife,  and  dese  Metodists.” 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


81 


DR.  COKE. 

“A  burning  and  a  shining  light.'1' — John. 

Dr.  Coke  was  the  foreign  minister  of  Meth¬ 
odism.  He  possessed  a  zealous  and  vivacious 
spirit,  which  nothing  could  damp,  but  which 
caught  inspiration  from  discouragements,  and, 
like  the  impeded  flood,  grew  stronger  by  ob¬ 
structions.  He  had  marked  defects,  but  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  characters  in  the  history 
of  our  church — an  example  of  ministerial  zeal 
worthy  of  universal  admiration  and  imitation. 
His  stature  was  low,  his  voice  effeminate,  but 
his  soul  was  as  vast  as  ever  dwelt  in  a  human 
bosom.  He  was  the  first  bishop  of  the  Meth¬ 
odist  Church  in  the  United  States,  but  found 
not  in  a  diocese  co-extensive  with  the  new 
world  room  for  his  energies.  Actuated  by  an 
impulse  which  allowed  him  no  rest,  he  was 
perpetually  contriving  new  measures  for  the 
extension  of  the  cause  which  he  had  embraced. 
His  plans,  had  he  been  a  man  of  ordinary  abili¬ 
ties,  would  have  entitled  him  to  the  character 
of  a  visionary  fanatic  ;  but  he  was  one  of  those 
are  spirits  whose  schemes  are  but  the  outline 
jf  their  grand  conceptions,  and  whose  concep- 
ions  are  the  legitimate  products  of  their  ener- 

6 


82 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


gies.  He  crossed  the  Atlantic  eighteen  times 
at  his  own  expense.  Until  his  death,  he  had 
charge  of  the  Methodist  missions  throughout 
the  world,  a  work  for  which  he  was  undoubt¬ 
edly  raised  up  and  qualified  by  God.  He 
founded  the  negro  missions  of  the  West  Indies, 
which  will  no  doubt  exert  an  important  inllu* 
ence  on  the  destiny  of  those  islands.  They 
included  fifteen  thousand  members  at  the  time 
of  his  death.  He  visited  the  missions  which 
he  had  established,  spent  almost  the  whole  of 
his  patrimonial  fortune  in  their  support,  preached 
for  them,  and  begged  for  them  from  door  to 
door.  The  missionary  spirit  was  with  him  “  as 
a  burning  fire  shut  up  in  his  bones.”  When 
a  veteran  of  almost  seventy  years,  we  find  him 
presenting  himself  before  the  Wesleyan  Con¬ 
ference  as  a  missionary  for  the  East  Indies. 
The  conference  objected,  on  account  of  the 
expense,  when  he  himself  offered  to  pay  the 
charges  of  the  outfit,  to  the  amount  of  six  thou¬ 
sand  pounds.  He  prevailed  over  all  objections, 
and  embarked  with  a  small  band  of  laborers  ; 
died  on  the  voyage,  and  was  buried  in  the 
waves  ;  but  the  undertaking  succeeded,  and  the 
Wesleyan  East  India  missions  are  the  result. 
It  has  been  justly  asserted  that,  next  to  Mr. 
Wesley,  no  man  was  ever  connected  with  tlio 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


83 


Wesleyan  body  who  contributed  more  to  extend 
the  blessings  of  Christianity  among  mankind. 
His  colleague  in  the  episcopacy  of  the  Ameri¬ 
can  church  would  not  allow  of  even  this  excep¬ 
tion  :  “  A  minister  of  Christ,”  said  Asbury, 
when  the  news  of  his  death  arrived,  “  a  minis¬ 
ter  of  Christ,  in  zeal,  in  labors,  and  in  services, 
the  greatest  man  of  the  last  century.”  He 
has  also  recorded  the  sentiment  somewhere  in 
his  Journal. 

Coke  was  not  merely  energetic  ;  he  possess¬ 
ed  a  sagacity  which  was  quick  in  its  percep¬ 
tions,  and  a  comprehension  wide  in  its  range. 
We  owe  to  his  judgment  some  of  the  most  im¬ 
portant  features  in  the  economy  of  American 
Methodism.  He  first  proposed  and  obtained  a 
permanent  establishment  of  the  General  Con¬ 
ference  to  be  held  at  stated  times, — a  measure 
which,  in  giving  unity  and  energy  to  our  vast 
body,  is  perhaps  unequaled  in  importance  by 
any  other  department  of  our  system.  In  the 
very  outset,  his  comprehensive  mind  saw  the 
importance  of  that  provision,  the  deficiency  of 
which  has  been,  perhaps,  our  greatest  loss,  and 
the  supply  of  which  is  now  so  strenuously  at¬ 
tempted  by  us,  educational  institutions.  He 
bad  no  serious  hostility  to  resist  in  his  efforts 
for  such  institutions  ;  but  such  was  the  ineffi- 


84 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


ciency,  if  not  indifference,  of  most  others,  that 
the  honor  of  the  attempt  (and  an  honor  it  still 
is,  for  it  has  silenced  many  a  charge  against  us) 
belongs  almost  exclusively  to  his  name.  Not 
discouraged  when  the  first  establishment  was 
burned  by  fire,  he  pressed  with  all  his  energies 
a  second  and  even  more  extended  attempt,  and 
ceased  not  his  endeavors  until  he  fully  sue 
ceeded.  This  institution  shared  the  fate  of  its 
predecessor,  and  (Dr.  Coke  being  mostly  abseni 
from  the  country)  Methodism  was  allowed  U* 
grow  up  without  this  great  auxiliary.  Wha£ 
might  have  been  the  extent  and  maturity  of 
Christian  education  in  our  land  at  this  momem 
had  the  spirit  of  Coke  been  more  general  among 
us  at  that  period !  The  intelligent  Methodise 
cannot  review  the  interval  of  indifference  whici 
followed  but  with  mortification  and  pain,  for  tkf 
immense  influence  and  usefulness  which  it  h?v» 
subtracted  from  the  church. 

Cokesbury  College  flourished  during  its  shot 
day  with  much  prosperity.  The  state  legisla 
ture  voluntarily  proffered  an  act  of  incorpora* 
tion,  with  power  to  confer  degrees.  Offers 
were  made  from  Kentucky  and  Georgia,  of  land 
and  funds  for  the  founding  of  similar  institu¬ 
tions  ;  a  few  influential  persons  pledged  two 
thousand  acres  of  land,  and  one  church  sub- 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


85 


scribed  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  pounds  of 
tobacco.  But  the  prospect  of  success  which 
was  dawning,  and,  no  doubt,  would  have  opened 
over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  nation,  was 
disregarded,  through  an  absurd  interpretation 
of  one  of  those  providences  which,  if  we  may 
learn  from  the  past,  seem  preparatory  for  the 
success  of  great  plans, — the  difficulty  of  their 
first  operation.  It  would  have  been  as  wise 
to  have  abandoned  Methodism,  because  of  its 
first  trials,  as  it  was  to  abandon  education 
because  of  the  conflagration  of  Cokesbury 
College. 

Dr.  Coke  was  not  only  useful  in  the  superin¬ 
tendence  of  great  measures — he  was  active  as 
a  preacher ;  all  the  minuter  duties  of  a  Meth¬ 
odist  itinerant,  as  far  as  they  came  within  the 
wide  sweep  of  his  ceaseless  movements,  he 
performed,  and  at  the  same  time  made  no  small 
use  of  his  pen.  Wesley  used  to  say  he  was  as 
a  right  hand  to  him.  He  was  unquestionably 
the  next  character  to  Wesley  himself  in  the 
biographical  catalogue  of  Methodism.  It  was 
a  noble  sentiment  recorded  by  him,  at  sea,  on 
his  first  voyage  to  America,  and  which  illus¬ 
trates  as  fully  as  language  can  his  own  charac¬ 
ter,  “  I  want  the  wings  of  an  eagle,  and  the 
voice  of  n  trumpet,  that  I  may  proclaim  the 


86 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


gospel  through  the  east  and  the  west,  the  north 
and  the  south.” 

There  is  genuine  sublimity  in  the  end  of  this 
veteran  evangelist.  Such  a  man  belongs  to  no 
locality — he  belongs  to  the  world  ;  though  dead, 
his  influence  is  widening  daily  over  the  earth, 
and  it  was  fitting  that  he  should  be  buried  in 
the  ocean,  whose  waves  might  sound  his  re¬ 
quiem  on  the  shores  of  all  lands. 


PROGRESS  IN  PIETY. 

11  Grow  in  grace.” — Paul. 

Is  it  not  the  habit  of  most  Christians,  after 
the  first  fervors  of  conversion,  to  content  them¬ 
selves  with  a  uniform  practice  of  the  regular 
duties  of  religion,  maintaining  a  fixed  temper 
of  mind,  and  expecting  no  very  appreciable  ad¬ 
vances  in  piety,  except,  it  may  be,  in  seasons 
of  extraordinary  revivals  ?  At  least,  it  is  un¬ 
questionable  that  the  proportion  is  very  small  in 
the  general  church,  who,  in  the  strong  language 
of  David,  “  pant  ”  after  the  Lord.  The  Chris¬ 
tian  course  is  represented  as  a  “  race.”  How 
absurd  would  it  be  for  a  racer  to  stop  at  frequent 
intervals  in  his  progress,  or  to  start  with  ardor. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


87 


and  then,  folding  his  arms  deliberately,  walk  to 
the  goal,  as  if  no  prize  challenged  him  and  no 
spectators  gazed  at  him  ?  Do  most  Christians 
exemplify  the  strong  language  of  St.  Paul, 
“  Seeing  we  are  compassed  about  with  so  great 
a  cloud  of  witnesses,  let  us  lay  aside  every 
weight,  and  the  sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset 
us,  and  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that 
is  set  before  us  ?”  What  a  spectacle  would  the 
church  exhibit  if  each  member  maintained  the 
progressive  spirit  of  his  religion  !  Of  course  the 
collective  mass  would  be  progressive  ;  the  term 
revival  would  become  obsolete,  for  the  perpetual 
spirit  of  the  church  would  be  lively  and  active. 
The  cultivation  of  a  strenuous  piety  would  in¬ 
evitably  lead  to  strong  sympathy  for  the  uncon¬ 
verted,  and  the  accession  to  the  numbers  of  the 
church  would  be  proportionate  to  the  accession 
to  its  piety.  The  grand  characteristic  of  the 
millennial  church  will  be  the  distinct  and  practi¬ 
cal  recognition  of  this  principle.  Its  approach 
will  be  indicated  by  the  growth,  and  its  con¬ 
summation  accomplished  by  the  entire  preva¬ 
lence,  of  personal  piety. 

By  what  means  can  we  make  more  progress 
in  personal  piety  ?  Is  not  the  first  reason  of  our 
small  progress  (first  in  the  order  of  time  as  well 
as  in  influence)  the  want  of  a  definite  aim  toward 


88 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


it  ?  It  is  to  be  feared  that  most  Christians 
entertain  but  a  feeble  conviction  of  the  duty  of 
spiritual  progress — of  “  going  on,”  as  St.  Paul 
expresses  it.  We  abandon  ourselves  to  the 
control  of  casual  circumstances  ;  and  are  asleep 
or  awake  as  the  influences  around  us  may  be 
dull  or  quickening.  Is  not  this  almost  univer¬ 
sally  the  case  ?  Now  what  would  we  think  of 
an  artisan  who  should  enter  his  shop  and 
thoughtlessly  take  up  his  tools  and  apply  him¬ 
self  indiscriminately  to  work  on  whatever  ma¬ 
terials  came  first  to  hand,  and  pursue  this  course 
from  day  to  day  until  his  apartments  should  be 
filled  with  fragments  of  work,  with  nothing 
complete — no  definite  and  final  plan  ?  What 
of  an  architect  who  should  lay  his  foundations 
without  reference  to  the  proposed  building,  or 
a  navigator  who  should  spread  his  sails  alike 
to  all  winds,  favorable  and  adverse,  contem¬ 
plating  his  desired  port  on  his  map,  but  not  on 
his  compass  ?  In  religion  more  than  anything 
else  we  want  distinctness,  directness.  Single 
out  then  the  particular  grace  in  which  you  are 
most  deficient,  and  apply  yourself  unto  it  dis¬ 
tinctly  and  daily  until  you  have  attained  it. 
You  can  pray  for  other  blessings,  and  perform 
other  duties  ;  but  let  this  one  be  foremost. 
Think  about  it,  plan  for  it,  bend  everything 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


89 


toward  it.  This  advice  is  applicable  not  merely 
to  individual  graces,  but  to  the  great  summary 
blessing  of  entire  sanctification.  Whether  we 
attain  it  gradually  or  instantaneously,  we  must 
address  ourselves  to  its  pursuit  directly  and 
earnestly,  or  never  obtain  it.  It  is  not  an  accident 
that  may  or  may  not  occur  in  our  experience, 
but  an  object  to  be  aimed  at  and  labored  for. 

Again,  we  should  make  it  a  rule  in  our  de¬ 
votions,  especially  in  prayer,  never  to  fail  to 
receive  immediate  and  sensible  communications 
from  God.  The  excellent  Mr.  Benson  main¬ 
tained  this  resolution  to  the  last ;  and  those  who 
have  read  his  memoirs  know  the  result.  This 
is  entirely  a  voluntary  matter  with  ourselves. 

God  is  always  willing  to  bless  us.  If  we  apply 
to  him  in  faith,  nothing  can  hinder.  The  rule 
we  now  suggest  would  preserve  the  mind  in  a 
state  suited  for  the  ready  exercise  of  faith. 

How  remarkably  remiss  are  we  in  our  most 
solemn  devotions  !  Would  we  approach  mere 
human  greatness  with  the  same  indifference 
as  we  do  God  ?  Could  we  converse  with  an  jL 
earthly  sovereign  with  the  same  heartlessness  ? 
Would  a  man  beg  for  his  life ,  as  we  plead  for 
our  souls  1  Christian,  rouse  thyself !  Endeavor 
to  feel  more  fully  the  reality  of  the  divine  pre¬ 
sence,  especially  in  the  closet.  Carry  to  the 


90 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


place  of  prayer  the  purpose  not  to  cease  thine 
importunity  till  thou  art  blessed.  The  mere 
purpose  will  destroy  most  of  those  desultory 
thoughts  which  intrude  into  the  sacred  retire¬ 
ment,  and  render  its  devotions  vague  and  in¬ 
effectual. 

If  Christ  were  visibly  present  at  the  hour  of 
prayer,  would  we  apply  to  him  as  we  now  do  1 
Would  notour  every  word  be  more  direct,  more 
confident  ?  And  is  he  less  really  present,  though 
invisible  ?  Can  we  not  habituate  ourselves  to  a 
vivid  and  immediate  realization  of  his  presence ? 
Who  will  doubt  it  ? 

A  common  reason  of  our  slow  progress  is  our 
casual  habit  of  reading  the  Scriptures.  We  fre¬ 
quently  say,  but  how  seldom  do  we  feel ,  that  the 
Scriptures  are  the  word  of  God  ?  What  would  be 
the  moral  effect  of  a  daily  interview  with  an  an¬ 
gel  ?  But  what  archangel  could  speak  to  us  as 
God  speaks  ?  If  the  heavens  should  open  above 
us  only  once  in  our  lives,  and  we  behold  the  ex¬ 
cellent  glory,  and  converse  with  God,  would  not 
the  scene  stamp  our  whole  character  ?  Would 
we  be  ordinary  men  afterward  ?  Would  not  its 
brightness,  as  in  the  case  of  Moses  on  descend¬ 
ing  from  the  mount,  continue  to  beam  around  our 
persons  ?  But  God  does  converse  as  infallibly 
with  us  in  his  word.  Alas  !  we  do  not  intently 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


91 


apprehend  it.  The  Scriptures,  no  doubt,  have  an 
immense  influence  even  on  the  collective  mind 
of  communities  where  they  are  read,  but  it  is 
amazing  that  they  do  not  imbue  and  dilate  more 
fully  individual  minds.  If  the  perusal  of  classic 
writings  is  so  important  for  the  formation  of  a 
vigorous  and  elegant  intellect — if  the  study  of 
the  models  of  art  is  so  effectual  in  the  improve¬ 
ment  of  genius — what  ought  to  be  the  effect  of 
a  daily  converse  with  the  conceptions  of  the 
Infinite  Mind  ?  Now,  if  the  classic  records,  or 
the  celebrated  specimens  of  art,  were  to  be 
glanced  at  as  slightly,  though  as  habitually,  as 
the  Scriptures,  would  they  ever  impress  their 
excellences  on  the  susceptibilities  of  genius  ? 
They  must  be  examined ;  a  paragraph  or  a 
feature  must  be  studied,  thoroughly,  laboriously. 
In  like  manner  should  the  Scriptures  be  studied. 
In  studying  the  models  of  taste,  not  only  must 
their  import  be  comprehended  by  the  student, 
but  the  spirit,  the  anima  which  actuates  the 
writer  or  the  artist  must  be  caught — this  is  the 
highest  attainment  of  genius.  There  is  much 
reading,  but  little  studying,  of  the  Scriptures. 
Our  Saviour  in  his  command  uses  the  strongest 
language,  “  Search  the  Scriptures.” 

The  point  of  our  remarks  is  simply  that  we 
should  study  the  word  of  God  daily  with  express 


92 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


reference  to  the  improvement  of  our  piety.  Such 
a  method,  universally  used,  would  develop  an 
efficacy  in  the  truth  which  would  surprise  the 
world.  It  would  not  be  merely  like  the  efficacy 
of  those  occasional  circumstances  or  impulses 
which  we  usually  depend  upon  for  spiritual 
improvement,  nor  merely  like  that  of  the  horta¬ 
tive  addresses  of  the  pulpit.  These  are  all 
enfeebled  by  human  frailty.  It  would  be  potent 
and  sublime  from  its  association  with  immediate 
inspiration,  and  with  the  purest  and  grandest 
truths,  such  as  occupy  angel  minds.  A  Chris¬ 
tian  mind  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  Scrip¬ 
tures,  and  accustomed  to  drink  from  them  as 
from  a  fountain  of  spiritual  refreshment,  may 
not  manifest  such  a  convulsive  zeal,  such  spas¬ 
modic  action,  as  one  which  depends  on  impulsive 
influences  ;  but  it  will  always  be  more  pro¬ 
foundly  vigorous,  and  serenely  spiritual,  like 
the  deep  and  steady  river  in  contrast  with  its 
tributary  stream  that  leaps  and  worries  down 
the  neighboring  hill-side.  Search,  then,  the 
Scriptures,  with  the  prayer  that  God  would 
“  sanctify  you  by  his  truth,”  and  remember  that 
his  “  word  is  truth.” 

Another  reason  of  the  small  effect  of  our 
efforts  to  advance  in  religion  is  frequently  the 
indulgence  of  some  cherished  sin.  There  is 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  93 

no  state  of  mind  which  will  allow  of  spiritual 
progress  but  that  in  which  we  are  “ pressing ” 
forward.  One  sin,  however  apparently  insig¬ 
nificant,  may  interfere  with  the  most  powerful 
influences,  as  a  small  object  near  the  eye  may 
exclude  the  light  of  the  very  sun.  “  If  I  regard 
iniquity  in  my  heart,”  says  the  Psalmist,  “  the 
Lord  will  not  hear  me”  Do  you  complain, 
Christian  reader,  of  the  barrenness  of  your  soul, 
of  the  feeble  influence  of  all  the  means  of  grace 
upon  your  heart  ?  Pause  a  moment,  and  inquire 
if  there  is  not  some  neutralizing  element,  some 
favored,  perhaps  concealed  sin.  Rest  not  till 
it  is  expelled.  Remember  the  struggle  is  for 
your  soul ;  that  one  sin  may  be  your  ruin — 
a  taint  of  depravity  which  may  diffuse  itself 
through  your  whole  spirit,  and  desolate  your 
whole  eternity.  Lay  aside,  therefore,  every 
weight,  and  the  sin  that  doth  so  easily  beset 
you,  and  run  with  patience  the  race  set  before 
you. 


94 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


BLACK  HARRY  OF  ST.  EUSTATIUS. 

Weeping  may  endure  for  a  night :  but  joy  cometh  in 
the  morning." — Psalmist. 

The  constant  travels  and  vicissitudes  of  Dr 
Coke’s  life  furnished  him  an  exhaustless  fund 
of  anecdote,  and  his  social  disposition  led  him 
to  draw  on  it  constantly  in  company.  There  is 
one  interesting  fact  which  he  often  related  as 
an  illustration  of  God’s  care  for  both  his  church 
and  his  individual  children.  Those  who  heard 
the  doctor  preach  from  the  text,  “  Fear  not, 
little  flock,”  &c.,  in  his  flying  visits  to  what 
were  in  his  day  our  feeblest  societies,  may  re¬ 
call  the  happy  illustration,  and  those  who  may 
think  it  savors  too  much  of  fiction  will  find  it 
authenticated  in  his  private  journals  and  by  his 
biographer. 

On  the  25th  of  December,  1786,  he  was  un¬ 
expectedly  driven  by  unfavorable  winds  into 
the  harbor  of  Antigua,  in  the  West  Indies. 
Actuated  by  that  missionary  zeal  which  allowed 
him  no  rest,  he  immediately  began  to  traverse 
the  islands,  preaching  wherever  he  could  find 
opportunity.  He  arrived  at  last,  with  his  com¬ 
panion  Mr.  Hammet,  at  St.  Eustatius,  which 
belonged  to  the  Dutch.  As  they  landed  they 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


95 


were  addressed  by  two  colored  men,  who  in¬ 
quired,  with  a  cordiality  unusual  among  stran¬ 
gers,  “  if  they  belonged  to  the  brethren.”  The 
doctor,  supposing  they  referred  to  the  Moravians, 
6aid  no,  but  remarked,  that  they  belonged  to  the 
same  great  spiritual  family.  The  hospitable 
negroes,  however,  made  no  mistake.  The 
doctor  was  surprised  to  learn  that  they  had 
come  to  welcome  him,  having  received  word 
from  the  island  of  St.  Christopher’s  that  he  de¬ 
signed  to  visit  them.  They  were  two  of  a  num¬ 
ber  of  free  negroes  who  had  actually  hired  a 
house  for  his  accommodation,  which  they  called 
his  home,  and  had  also  provided  for  the  expense 
of  his  journey.  They  conducted  him  to  his 
new  parsonage,  where  he  was  entertained  with 
profuse  hospitality. 

The  doctor  was  taken  by  surprise.  No  mis¬ 
sionary  had  been  there,  and  the  island  was 
destitute  of  the  means  of  grace.  These  generous 
colored  people  were  evidently  children  of  God  : 
his  visit  to  them  was  received  as  that  of  an 
angel,  and  yet  there  were  mingled  with  their  joy 
signs  of  a  common  sorrow.  With  the  utmost 
interest  he  inquired  into  their  history.  They 
informed  him,  in  reply,  that  some  months  be¬ 
fore,  a  slave  named  Harry  had  been  brought  to 
the  island  from  the  United  States,  who  was 


96 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


converted  and  had  joined  a  Methodist  class 
before  his  removal.  On  arriving  among  them 
Harry  found  himself  without  a  religious  asso¬ 
ciate,  and  with  no  means  of  religious  improve¬ 
ment  but  his  private  devotions.  The  poor 
African  nevertheless  maintained  his  fidelity  to 
his  Lord.  After  much  anxiety  and  prayer  he 
began  publicly  to  proclaim  to  his  fellow-servants 
the  name  of  Christ.  Such  an  example  was  a 
great  novelty  in  the  island,  and  attracted  mu«h 
attention.  His  congregations  were  large  ;  even 
the  governor  of  the  island  deigned  to  hear  him, 
and,  by  approving  his  course,  indirectly  pro¬ 
tected  him  from  the  opposition  to  which  his 
servile  condition  would  otherwise  have  exposed 
him. 

God  owned  the  labors  of  his  humble  servant 
and  at  times  the  Holy  Spirit  descended  in  over 
whelming  influence  upon  the  multitude.  Such 
was  the  effect  on  many  of  the  slaves,  that  they 
fell  like  dead  men  to  the  earth,  and  lay  for  hours 
insensible.  At  a  meeting  not  long  before  the 
doctor’s  arrival,  sixteen  persons  were  thus  struck 
down  under  his  exhortations.  Such  an  extra¬ 
ordinary  circumstance  excited  a  general  sensa¬ 
tion  among  the  planters.  They  determined  to 
suppress  the  meetings.  They  appealed  to  the 
governor,  who  immediately  ordered  the  slave 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


97 


before  him,  and  forbade  his. preaching  by  severe 
penalties.  So  far  had  the  planters  succeeded 
in  exciting  the  morose  temper  of  the  governor, 
that  it  was  only  by  the  intervention  of  the 
supreme  Judge  that  Harry  was  saved  from 
being  cruelly  flogged.  His  faithful  labors  were 
now  peremptorily  stopped.  It  was  a  remark¬ 
able  coincidence  that  Dr.  Coke  arrived  the  very 
day  on  which  Harry  was  silenced  ;  hence  the 
mingled  joy  and  sorrow  of  the  “  little  flock  ” 
who  so  hospitably  entertained  him. 

After  giving  the  doctor  this  information,  they 
insisted  upon  his  preaching  to  them  immedi¬ 
ately,  lest  by  delay  the  opportunity  should  be 
lost ;  but  fearing,  from  the  silence  which  had 
that  day  been  imposed  on  Harry,  that  it  might 
result  in  more  evil  than  good,  he  declined  until 
he  should  see  the  governor.  Such,  however, 
was  their  hunger  for  the  bread  of  life,  that  he 
could  not  induce  them  to  separate  till  they  had 
twice  sung,  and  he  had  thrice  joined  with  them 
in  prayer. 

The  doctor  found,  by  his  interview  with  the 
authorities,  that  it  would  be  imprudent  to  tarry 
on  the  island.  He  therefore  formed  the  little 
persecuted  band  into  classes  under  the  most 
prudent  man  he  could  find  among  them,  and, 

committing  them  to  God,  departed  amid  their 

7 


98 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


tears  and  prayers.  So  amply  had  they  supplied 
liim  with  fruits  and  other  provisions,  that  in  a 
voyage  of  near  three  weeks,  during  which  eight 
persons  shared  these  bounties  with  him,  they 
were  not  exhausted. 

Poor  Harry,  suspected  and  watched,  did  not 
presume  to  preach  again  ;  but  supposing,  after 
a  considerable  interval,  that  the  excitement 
against  him  had  ceased,  and  that  the  prohibition 
only  extended  to  his  preaching,  he  ventured  to 
pray  openly  with  his  brethren.  Pie  was  imme¬ 
diately  summoned  before  the  governor,  and  sen¬ 
tenced  to  be  publicly  whipped,  then  imprisoned, 
and  afterward  banished  from  the  island.  The 
sentence  was  executed  with  unrelenting  cruelty, 
but  the  poor  negro  felt  himself  honored  in 
suffering  for  his  Master.  While  the  blood 
streamed  from  his  back,  his  Christian  fortitude 
was  unshaken.  From  the  whipping-post  he 
was  taken  to  prison,  whence  he  was  secretly 
removed,  but  whither  none  of  his  little  company 
could  discover. 

In  1789  Dr.  Coke  returned  to  the  West  In* 
dies.  After  preaching  at  many  other  islands, 
he  again  visited  St.  Eustatius  to  comfort  its 
suffering  society.  The  spirit  of  persecution 
still  raged  there,  and  the  fate  of  Plarry  was  still 
wrapped  in  impenetrable  mystery.  None  of 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


99 


his  associates  had  been  able  to  obtain  the 
slightest  information  respecting  him  since  his 
disappearance.  A  cruel  edict  had  been  passed 
by  the  local  government,  inflicting  thirty-nine 
lashes  on  any  colored  man  who  should  be 
found  praying.  It  seemed  the  determination 
of  the  authorities  to  banish  religion  from  the 
island  ;  yet  the  seed  sown  by  Harry  had  sprung 
up,  and  nothing  could  uproot  it.  During  all 
these  trials  the  little  society  of  St.  Eustatius 
had  been  growing,  its  persecuted  members  had 
contrived,  by  some  means,  to  preserve  their 
union,  and  the  doctor  found  them  two  hundred 
and  fifty-eight  strong,  and  privately  baptized 
many  before  his  departure.  They  had  been, 
indeed,  “  hid  with  Christ  in  God.”  The  govern¬ 
ment  again  drove  him  from  the  island. 

After  visiting  the  United  States  and  England, 
this  tireless  man  of  God  was,  in  1790,  again 
sounding  the  alarm  among  the  West  India 
Islands,  and  again  he  visited  St.  Eustatius.  A 
new  governor  had  been  appointed,  and  he  hoped 
for  a  better  reception,  but  he  was  repelled  as 
obstinately  as  before.  Still  the  great  Shepherd 
took  care  of  the  flock.  The  rigor  of  the  laws 
against  them  had  been  somewhat  relaxed,  and, 
in  the  providence  of  God,  eight  exhorters  had 
arisen  among  them,  who  were  extensively  use- 


100 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


ful  to  the  slaves.  To  these  and  to  the  leaders 
he  gave  private  advice  and  comfort,  and,  com¬ 
mitting  them  to  God,  who  had  hitherto  so  mar¬ 
velously  kept  them,  he  again  departed.  The 
chief  care  of  the  society  devolved  on  a  person 
named  Ryley,  who,  about  four  years  previously, 
had  been  converted  under  the  labors  of  black 
Harry.  Harry’s  fate  was  still  involved  in  mys¬ 
terious  secrecy,  and  his  friends  indulged  the 
worst  fears.  But  his  “  works  followed  him 
he  had  kindled  a  fire  in  St.  Eustatius  which 
many  waters  could  not  quench.  On  his  return 
to  England  Dr.  Coke  interested  the  Wesleyan 
churches  in  his  behalf,  and  many  were  the 
prayers  which  ascended  for  him  and  the  afflict¬ 
ed  church  which  he  had  planted. 

In  1792  the  doctor  again  visited  the  island, 
but  he  was  not  allowed  to  preach.  Nothing 
was  yet  known  of  the  fate  of  poor  Harry.  The 
spirit  of  persecution  still  prevailed,  and  even 
feeble  women  had  been  dragged  to  the  whip¬ 
ping-post  for  having  met  for  prayer.  But, 
in  the  good  providence  of  God,  religion  still 
prospered  secretly,  and  the  classes  met  by 
stealth.  The  doctor  left  them  with  a  deter¬ 
mination  to  go  to  Holland  and  solicit  the  inter¬ 
position  of  the  parent  government.  This  he 
did  with  his  usual  perseverance,  but  not  with 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


lOi 


success.  The  tyranny  of  the  local  government 
continued  about  twelve  years  longer  ;  but  the 
great  Head  of  the  church  at  last  sent  deliver¬ 
ance  to  his  people.  In  1804,  about  eighteen 
years  after  Harry  was  silenced,  a  missionary 
was  admitted  to  the  island  ;  a  chapel  was  after¬ 
ward  built  and  Sunday  schools  established,  and 
St.  Eustatius  has  since  continued  to  be  named 
among  the  successful  missions  of  the  West 
Indies.  Dr.  Coke  lived  to  see  this  long-closed 
door  opened,  and  the  devoted  missionary  enter 
with  the  bread  of  life  for  the  famishing,  but 
faithful  little  band  of  disciples. 

Thus  does  the  providence  of  God  protect 
those  who  put  their  trust  in  him.  “  Weeping 
may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the 
morning.”  God  will,  sooner  or  later,  help  those 
who  help  themselves. 

But  what  became  of  poor  Harry  ?  During 
about  ten  years  his  fate  was  unknown,  and  all 
hope  of  discerning  it  before  the  sea  should  give 
up  its  dead  was  abandoned.  About  this  time 
the  doctor  again  visited  the  States.  One  even¬ 
ing,  after  preaching,  he  was  followed  to  his 
room  by  a  colored  man,  deeply  affected.  It 
was  poor  black  Harry  !  Reader,  what  would 
you  not  have  given  to  witness  that  inter¬ 
view  ?  He  had  been  sent  in  a  cargo  of  slaves 


102 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


to  the  States,  but  was  now  free.  Through  all 
these  years  and  changes  he  had  “  kept  the 
faith,”  and  was  still  exercising  himself  with 
continued  usefulness  in  the  sphere  which  he 
occupied. 


THE  WAY  OF  LIFE. 

“  He  that  believeth  shall  be  saved.1' — Christ. 

How  plain  is  the  way  of  life  ;  how  explicit 
is  the  statement  of  the  plan  of  salvation !  “  By 
grace  are  ye  saved  through  faith ;  and  that  not 
of  yourselves  ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  not  of  works, 
lest  any  man  should  boast.”  The  apostle  af¬ 
firms,  first,  the  great  proposition  of  salvation, 
“  ye  are  saved ;”  secondly,  the  primary  cause  of 
it,  “grace  ;”  and  thirdly,  the  instrumental  cause, 
“faith ;”  and  how  carefully  he  guards  against 
Pelagian  confidence,  “  Not  of  yourselves,  it  is 
the  gift  of  God  ;”  and  again  he  repeats  it,  “  not 
of  works,  lest  any  man  should  boast.”  It  would 
seem  impossible  to  mistake  the  universal  import 
of  the  New  Testament  on  this  its  ostensible 
topic,  but  how  many  misapprehend  it ! — how 
many  grope  through  long  lives  down  to  the 
grave  with  the  Bible  in  their  hands,  ignorant 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  103 

of  its  first  principle,  and  never  knowing  that 
peace  in  believing  which  is  its  balm  for  the  heart’s 
wretchedness  !  The  churches  of  whole  lands 
have  lost  sight  of  the  doctrine  of  justification 
b’  faith  ;  lands,  too,  profoundly  skilled  in  Scrip¬ 
tural  exegesis.  Alas,  for  the  perversity  of 
man !  Though  pervaded  with  depravity,  dead 
in  trespasses  and  sins,  miserable  and  lost,  yet 
would  he  presume  to  confront  the  throne  of  his 
Judge  with  pretences  of  merit. 

Such  were  my  reflections  as  I  descended 
from  the  chamber  of  an  individual  whose  life 
was  flickering  with  consumption,  like  the  ex 
piring  taper  in  its  socket,  and  whose  only  solace 
for  the  future  was  the  reflection  that  he  had 
been  just  to  his  fellow-men.  As  his  is  not  an 
uncommon  case,  its  introduction  here  may  be 
useful  to  others. 

On  taking  a  seat  by  his  bed,  I  expressed  my 
sympathy  for  his  sufferings,  and  my  hope  that 
they  were  working  out  for  him  a  far  more  ex¬ 
ceeding  and  eternal  weight,  of  glory. 

He  hesitated  in  his  answer,  and  remarked 
that  “  death  was  dreadful  to  a  man  under  anv 
circumstances.” 

“  And  yet,”  said  I,  “  ‘  the  sting  of  death  is 
sin  and  Paul  exclaims,  4  O  death,  where  is 
thy  sting  ?  0  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 


104  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

Thanks  be  to  God,  who  giveth  us  the  victory, 
through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.’  The  primitive 
Christians  seemed  to  anticipate  it  as  altogether 
desirable.  The  same  apostle  says  expressly, 
‘  I  desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ and  he 
represents  the  Corinthian  brethren  as  ‘  willing 
rather  to  be  absent  from  the  body  and  to  be 
present  with  the  Lord  nay,  as  ‘  groaning’  in 
‘  this  tabernacle,’  ‘  earnestly  desiring  to  be 
clothed  upon  with  their  house  which  is  from 
heaven.’  ” 

“  Yes,”  replied  the  sick  man  ;  “  but  the  church 
is  not  now  what  it  then  was.  Still,  God  is 
merciful.  I  place  my  trust  in  him.  I  have  en¬ 
deavored  to  live  honestly,  and  I  hope  I  shall 
die  in  peace.” 

I  was  startled  at  his  defective  views,  for  he 
had  been  the  child  of  religious  parents,  and  had 
faithfully  observed  the  external  duties  of  reli¬ 
gion.  I  endeavored  to  convince  him  of  the 
depravity  of  the  heart,  and  its  utter  unfitness 
for  heaven  without  faith  in  Christ  and  the 
renewal  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  My  reasonings 
were  evidently  heard  with  reluctance,  but  I 
hoped  with  effect,  and,  praying  for  the  blessing 
of  the  Spirit  upon  them,  I  took  my  leave,  design¬ 
ing  to  call  again  after  allowing  him  sufficient 
time  for  reflection. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


105 


He  was  born  and  educated  in  Massachusetts. 
With  a  strictly  Puritan  morality,  he  united  the 
practical  tact,  general  intelligence,  and  not  a 
little  of  the  metaphysical  acuteness  of  New- 
England.  At  my  first  visit  he  showed  quite  a 
propensity  to  rebut  my  appeals  by  logical  diffi¬ 
culties.  It  was  my  ardent  prayer,  as  I  went  to 
his  chamber  the  next  day,  that  the  Lord  would 
enable  me  to  strip  from  him  that  guise  of  self- 
righteousness  which,  instead  of  the  wedding 
garment,  is  the  winding  sheet  of  the  soul,  one, 
alas !  in  which  many  a  self-deluded  sinner  has 
laid  down  in  eternal  death.  I  perceived  imme¬ 
diately  that  my  former  conversation  had  pro¬ 
duced  an  effect.  He  seemed  anxious  and  in¬ 
quisitive,  but  still  unwilling  to  abandon  his  false 
reliance. 

“  But  do  you  not  think,  sir,”  said  he,  “  that 
an  honest  man  will  be  saved  ?” 

“  Yes,  a  truly  honest  man,  honest  toward  God 
as  well  as  man,  he  who  honestly  conforms  to 
God’s  terms  of  salvation  ;  not  one  who  is  honest 
only  according  to  the  moral  standard  of  the 
world,  but  he  who  lives  by  faith,  for  *  by  grace 
ye  are  saved  through  faith  ;  and  that  not  of 
yourselves  ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  not  of  works, 
lest  any  man  should  boast,’  and  ‘  he  that  be- 
lieveth  not  shall  be  damned.’” 


106 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


“  But  can  there  be  much  difference  between 
strict  morality  and  piety  ?” 

“  The  difference  is  vast.  Look  at  a  few 
particulars.  Morality,  so  called,  in  its  highest 
form,  proposes  nothing  but  present  and  future 
uprightness.  True  religion  proposes  this,  but 
also  the  pardon  of  the  past.  The  strictest  mo¬ 
ralist  will  admit  that  he  has  sinned  in  the  past, 
but  he  makes  no  provision  for  past  sin.  Utter 
rectitude  in  the  present  and  the  future  is  no 
more  than  his  duty  ;  it  can  involve  no  superero- 
gative  merit  which  might  be  transferred  to  the 
past.  What  hope  has  he,  then  1  The  fatal 
plague  spot,  however  small,  is  upon  him.  One 
sin  introduced  1  death  and  all  our  wo one  sin 
unforgiven  is  a  spring  which,  touched  by  the 
hand  of  death,  will  throw  all  his  eternal  desti¬ 
nies  into  ruin.  The  Christian  has  a  provision 
for  the  past,  for  he  believes  in  £  him  whom  God 
hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation  through  faith 
in  his  blood,  to  declare  his  righteousness  for  the 
remission  of  sins  that  are  past.’ 

“  Again.  Morality  is  generally  limited  to 
relative  duties,  those  which  are  mutual  among 
men  ;  these  form  but  one  class  of  duties,  and 
though  an  important,  yet  a  secondary  class. 
Man  has  a  higher  relation  than  that  which  binds 
him  to  his  fellows  ;  he  is  related  to  God,  and 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


107 


this  relation  involves  duties  ;  the  duties  of  filial 
love,  of  prayer,  of  praise,  and  all  acts  of  spiritual 
devotion.  The  moralist  prides  himself  on  his 
fidelity  to  man,  while  he  recklessly  refuses  the 
higher  claims  of  God.  What  though  he  com¬ 
mits  no  positive  sin  against  society,  yet  he  is 
every  moment  guilty  of  negative  sins  against 
God.  And  negative  sins  may  be  as  guilty  as 
positive  ones.  Positive  crimes  appear  to  us 
more  enormous  because  recognized  and  punish¬ 
ed  by  human  law  ;  but  who  can  say  that  to  re¬ 
fuse  to  love  or  worship  God  is  not  as  great  a 
sin,  nay,  greater  than  theft  or  murder  ?  1  do  not 

say  it  is,  but  who  can  assert  it  is  not?  What, 
then,  is  the  character  of  the  man  who  has  been 
all  his  life  incurring  such  guilt  ?  How  can  he 
enter  the  presence  of  his  insulted  God  ? 

“  And  then  look  at  the  sentiments  which 
usually  accompany  morality.  How  do  they 
contrast  with  those  of  true  religion  1  They  are 
sentiments  of  pride,  of  honor,  so  called.  Like 
the  Pharisee  in  the  temple,  the  moralist  flatters 
himself  that  he  is  not  like  other  men.  Not  so 
the  Christian  :  he  feels  himself  to  be  the  chief 
of  sinners ;  of  himself  he  is  but  weakness  and 
guiltiness.  And  yet,  while  he  knows  that  of 
himself  he  can  do  nothing,  there  is  within  him 
a  sublime  consciousness  of  power,  the  indwell- 


108 


SKETCHES  AN D  INCIDENTS. 


ing  Godhead,  and  he  feels  that  he  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ,  which  strengtheneth  him. 

“  Morality  is  a  self-imposed  virtue ;  true  re¬ 
ligion  is  the  renewal  of  the  heart  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  received  by  faith.  It  is  ‘  the  life  of  God 
in  the  soul  of  man.’  Lean  not,  then,  my  dear 
friend,  on  this  broken  reed.  You  are  hastening 
to  your  end  ;  look  to  the  Lamb  of  God,  which 
taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world.  He  is  your 
only  hope.” 

With  tears  in  his  eyes,  the  sick  man  replied, 
“  O  that  I  had  given  my  attention  to  these  things 
earlier !  I  would  do  right,  I  wish  to  be  honest 
with  myself.  I  have  not  been  satisfied  with 
my  condition,  and  every  hour  it  grows  more 
doubtful.  Your  arguments  appear  correct,  and 
yet  I  am  perplexed  to  know  why  so  much  im¬ 
portance  is  attached  to  faith — why  all  the  hopes 
and  promises  of  religion  are  suspended  on  it.” 

“  It  should  be  a  sufficient  answer,”  I  replied, 
“  that  Infinite  Wisdom  has  seen  fit  so  to  con¬ 
struct  the  economy  of  salvation,  and  therefore 
the  reasons  for  the  fact,  however  mysterious  to 
us,  must  be  important.  But  there  are  many 
considerations  which  give  an  obvious  propriety 
to  this  peculiarity  of  the  Christian  system. 

“  A  religion  which  should  not  provide  for  the 
practical  improvement  of  its  followers  would  be 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


109 


of  little  advantage  to  the  world ;  and  yet  one 
that  should  make  the  hope  of  salvation  depend¬ 
ent  upon  practical  duties  would  be  but  a  ministry 
of  condemnation,  especially  to  all  who,  by  ad¬ 
vanced  years,  or  sickness,  or  sudden  death,  are 
placed  beyond  the  reach  of  the  self-discipline 
of  active  virtue  ;  it  would  likewise  tend  to  its 
own  destruction,  by  giving  occasion  to  the  self- 
dependence  and  self-righteousness  of  those  who 
receive  it.  Now  the  gospel  avoids  this  liability 
by  making  salvation  dependent  entirely  on  a 
principle  which  involves  no  merit  in  itself,  but 
tacitly  ascribes  it  all  to  God,  and  yet  implies 
such  a  frame  of  mind  as  necessarily  will  produce 
the  exercise  of  every  practical  virtue.  Faith,  by 
implying  the  absence  of  all  self-dependence, 
produces  humility ;  by  reposing  all  its  depend¬ 
ence  on  God  leads  to  gratitude  and  love,  and 
gratitude  and  love  lead  to  adoration  ;  and,  like 
the  filial  dependence  and  love  of  the  child  to 
the  parent,  they  lead  also  to  all  obedience  and 
faithfulness.  Works  have  therefore  properly 
been  called  the  evidences  of  faith.  The  two 
most  appropriate  sentiments  to  the  human  mind 
are  kept  in  lively  exercise  by  faith,  namely,  the 
exaltation  of  God  and  abasement  of  self.  God’s 
goodness,  and  our  own  utter  inability,  are  per¬ 
petually  suggested  by  it.  Its  exercise  is  direct 


110 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


communion  with  God.  If  we  were  to  be  saved 
by  the  secondary  instrumentality  of  works,  we 
might  forget  God  in  our  attention  to  subordinate 
means  ;  but  faith  is  an  application  directly  to 
his  throne,  and  brings  us  into  the  light  of  his 
excellent  glory. 

“How  admirably  is  Christianity  thus  adapted 
to  what  must  always  be  the  great  object  of  true 
religion,  the  improvement,  the  moral  discipline 
of  man,  and  by  a  process,  too,  which  to  the 
superficial  eye  of  the  skeptic  appears  calculated 
to  do  away  the  force  of  moral  duties  !  Indeed, 
the  more  the  great  doctrine  of  the  atonement  is 
scrutinized,  the  more  manifest  are  its  claims  to 
be  called  the  wisdom  and  the  power  of  God. 
What  form  of  truth  could  be  better  suited  than 
this  for  all  the  purposes  of  pure  and  spiritual 
religion  ?  What  one  could  more  exalt  God  and 
improve  man  ?  What  one  could  more  fully  dig¬ 
nify  the  justice  of  the  divine  throne,  and  yet 
crown  with  mercy  and  hope  the  most  dangerous 
emergency  of  the  penitent  sinner  ?  What  one 
could  better  meet  your  own  case,  my  dear  friend? 
Is  it  not  what  you  need?  and  will  you  not  em¬ 
brace  it  ?  0  believe  and  be  saved.” 

Seldom  have  I  seen  a  more  affecting  expres¬ 
sion  of  self-abandonment,  and  anxiety,  hope, 
and  humility,  than  was  presented  by  this  poor 


SKETCHES  AND  'INCIDENTS. 


llJ 


liivalid  at  the  close  of  the  conversation.  The 
Spirit  of  God  was  evidently  striving  with  him. 
With  weeping  eyes  and  the  tenderness  of  a 
child,  he  exclaimed,  “  O,  sir,  this  is  just  what 
1  need.  I  am  standing  between  both  worlds, 
and  in  all  the  universe  around  me  I  see  but  one 
object  upon  which  I  can  fix  my  eyes  with  con¬ 
fidence,  and  that  is  the  cross.  I  tremble  even 
as  I  look  at  that  symbol  of  love  and  mercy.  O, 
can  it  be  that  I  may  be  saved  ?” 

I  conversed  with  him  longer,  and  commended 
him  to  the  grace  of  God  in  prayer. 

For  more  than  a  week  after  this  visit  I  was 
absent  at  conference,  leaving  my  charge  in  the 
care  of  a  local  preacher,  who  visited  him  daily. 
During  one  of  these  calls  he  received  peace  in 
believing,  and  had  since  been  daily  sinking 
under  disease,  but  rejoicing  in  hope  of  the  glory 
of  God.  On  my  return  I  immediately  visited 
him.  He  was  not  expected  to  survive  the  day. 
His  utterance  was  difficult,  but  his  mind  glowed 
with  that  brilliancy  and  vigor  which  so  often 
accompany  this  fatal,  but  gentle  disease.  His 
late,  but  complete  change,  was  a  remarkable 
instance  of  the  power  of  grace,  and  the  Lord 
deigned  to  him  a  triumphant  exit.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  give  the  details  of  his  final  expe¬ 
rience  ;  but  my  design  has  been  to  show  the 


112  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

fallacy  of  his  erroneous  views,  and  this  outline 
has  already  extended  too  far.  Let  it  suffice  to 
say,  that  the  grace  which  had  thus  remarkably 
rescued  him  cheered  with  increasing  consola 
tion  his  remaining  hours.  I  penciled  a  few  of 
his  dying  sentences. 

“  How  astonishing  was  my  delusion !  how 
diffeient  my  life  now  looks  !  guilt — guilt — guilt 
— all  is  guilt.  I  am  a  brand  plucked  from  the 
burning.  I  am  saved  on  the  very  threshold  of 
hell.” 

“  O  that  I  had  more  strength  to  praise  Him ! 
My  time  is  so  short,  and  so  little  of  it  has  been 
devoted  to  Him,  I  want  to  testify  his  wondenul 
mercy  every  instant.” 

“  I  cannot  fear ;  his  boundless  grace  sur¬ 
rounds  and  sustains  me.  Well  did  the  Psalmist 
call  it  the  ‘  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death.’ 
It  is  but  a  shadow ,  a  shade  in  a  refreshing- 
valley.” 

“  I  would  not  exchange  this  dying  bed  for 
the  throne  of  a  monarch  ;  all  my  trust  is  in  God, 
and  I  could  now  trust  him,  though  all  fallen 
spirits  should  gather  about  me.  I  am  going, 
going,  going  to  my  Lord  and  Saviour ;  though 
at  the  eleventh  hour,  I  am  saved.  I  am  saved 
Let  none  hereafter  despair.” 

With  similar  expressions,  he  lingered  about 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIEENTS. 


113 


two  hours,  and  then  sweetly  fell  asleep  in  Jesus. 
“  He  that  believeth  shall  be  saved.”  Blessed 
be  God,  the  truth  has  never  failed. 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  METHODIST  ECONOMY. 

“  God  hath  chosen  the  weak  things  of  the  world  to 
confound  the  mighty — Paul. 

The  origin  of  Methodism  has  always  ap¬ 
peared  to  me  a  remarkable  chapter  in  the  his¬ 
tory  of  Providence,  and  its  economy  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  passages  in  that  chapter. 

Time  has  proved  it  to  be  the  most  efficient 
of  all  modern  religious  organizations,  not  only 
among  the  dispersed  population  of  a  new  coun¬ 
try,  but  also  in  the  dense  community  of  an  an¬ 
cient  people ;  on  the  American  frontier,  and  in 
the  English  city,  it  is  found  efficacious  beyond 
all  other  plans,  stimulating,  impelling  all  others, 
and  yet  outstripping  them. 

This  wonderful  system  of  religious  instru¬ 
mentalities  was  not  conceived  a  priori.  It  was 
not.  the  result  of  sagacious  foresight ;  it  grew 
up  spontaneously.  Its  elementary  parts  were 
evolved  unexpectedly  in  the  progress  of  the  sect. 

Wesley  saw  that  the  state  of  religion  throughout 

8 


i  14 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  English  nation  required  a  thorough  re¬ 
form  ;  and  “  felt  in  himself,”  says  Southey, 
“  the  power  and  the  will  for  it,  both  in  such 
plenitude,  that  they  appeared  to  him  a  manifesta¬ 
tion  not  to  be  doubted  of  the  will  of  Heaven.” 
He  looked  not  into  the  future,  but.  consulted  only 
the  openings  of  present  duty.  “  Whither/’  says 
the  same  author,  “  they  were  to  lead  he  knew 
not,  nor  what  form  of  consistence  the  societies 
ne  was  collecting  would  assume,  nor  where  he 
was  to  find  laborers  as  he  enlarged  the  field 
of  his  operations,  nor  how  the  scheme  was  to 
derive  its  temporal  support.  But  these  con¬ 
siderations  neither  troubled  him,  nor  made  him 
for  a  moment  foreslacken  his  course.  God,  he 
believed,  had  appointed  it,  and  God  would 
always  appoint  means  for  his  own  ends.” 

He  expected  at  first  to  keep  within  the  re¬ 
strictions  of  the  national  Church,  to  which  he 
was  devotedly  attached.  The  manner  in  which 
he  was  providentially  led  to  adopt,  one  by  one, 
the  peculiar  measures  which  at  last  consolidated 
into  a  distinct  and  unparalleled  system,  is  an 
interesting  feature  in  the  history  of  Methodism 
Let  us  trace  it  a  moment. 

The  doctrines  which  he  preached,  and  the 
novel  emphasis  with  which  he  preached  them, 
led  to  his  expulsion  from  the  pulpits  of  the 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


115 


Establishment.  This,  together  with  the  im¬ 
mense  assemblies  he  attracted,  compelled  him 
to  proclaim  them  in  the  open  air — a  measure 
which  the  moral  wants  of  the  country  demanded, 
and  which  is  justified,  as  well  by  the  example 
of  Christ  as  by  its  incalculable  results. 

The  inconvenience  of  the  “  rooms”  occupied 
by  his  followers  for  spiritual  meetings  at  Bristol 
led  to  the  erection  of  a  more  commodious  edi¬ 
fice.  This  was  a  place  of  occasional  preaching, 
then  of  regular  worship,  and  finally,  without  the 
slightest  anticipation  of  such  a  result,  the  first  in 
a  series  of  chapels  which  became  the  habitual 
resort  of  his  followers,  and  thereby  contributed, 
more,  perhaps,  than  any  other  cause,  to  their 
organization  into  a  distinct  sect. 

The  debt  incurred  by  this  building  rendered 
necessary  a  plan  of  contribution  among  those 
who  assembled  in  it.  They  agreed  to  pay  a 
penny  a  week.  They  were  divided  into  com¬ 
panies  of  twelve,  one  of  whom,  called  the  leader, 
was  appointed  to  receive  their  contributions. 
At  their  weekly  meetings  for  the  payment  of 
this  small  sum,  they  found  leisure  for  religious 
conversation  and  prayer.  These  companies, 
formed  thus  for  a  local  and  temporary  object, 
were  afterward  called  classes,  and  the  arrange¬ 
ment  was  incorporated  into  the  regular  economy 


116 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


of  Methodism.  In  this  manner  originated  one 
of  the  most  distinctive  features  of  our  system — 
our  classes — the  advantages  of  which  are  be¬ 
yond  all  estimation.  The  class  meeting  has, 
more  than  any  other  means,  preserved  our  ori¬ 
ginal  purity.  It  is  the  best  school  of  experi¬ 
mental  divinity  the  world  has  ever  seen.  It 
has  given  a  sociality  of  spirit  and  a  disciplinary 
training  to  Methodism  which  are  equaled  in  no 
other  sect. 

We  cannot  but  admire  the  providential  adap¬ 
tation  of  this  institution  to  another  which  was 
subsequently  to  become  all-important  in  our 
economy — I  mean  an  itinerant  ministry.  Such 
a  ministry  could  not  admit  of  much  pastoral 
labor,  especially  in  the  new  world,  where  the 
circuits  were  long.  The  class  leader  became 
a  substitute  for  the  preacher  in  this  department 
of  his  office.  The  fruits  of  an  itinerant  ministry 
must  have  disappeared  in  many,  perhaps  most 
places,  during  the  long  intervals  which  elapsed 
between  the  visits  of  the  earlier  preachers,  had 
they  not  been  preserved  by  the  class  meeting. 
A  small  class  has  been  the  germ  of  almost  every 
church  we  have  formed.  It  was  the  germ  from 
which  has  developed  the  whole  growth  of  our 
vast  cause,  for  it  was  the  first  organic  form  of 
Methodism. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


117 


Another  most  important  result  of  the  class 
meetings,  formed  so  accidentally,  or  rather  pro¬ 
videntially,  at  Bristol,  was  the  pecuniary  provi¬ 
sion  they  led  to  for  the  prosecution  of  the  plans 
which  were  daily  enlarging  under  the  hands  of 
W esley.  The  whole  fiscal  system  of  Methodism 
arose  from  the  Bristol  penny  collections.  Thus, 
without  foreseeing  the  great  independent  cause 
he  was  about  to  establish,  Wesley  formed, 
through  a  slight  circumstance,  a  simple  and  yet 
most  complete  system  of  finance  for  the  im¬ 
mense  expenses  which  its  future  prosecution 
would  involve.  And  how  admirably  was  this 
pecuniary  system  adapted  to  the  circumstances 
of  that  cause  !  He  was  destined  to  raise  up  a 
vast  religious  combination ;  it  was  to  include 
the  poorer  classes,  and  yet  require  large  pecu¬ 
niary  resources.  How  were  these  resources 
to  be  provided  among  a  poor  people  ?  The  pro¬ 
ject  presents  a  complete  dilemma.  The  provi¬ 
dential  formation  of  a  plan  of  finance  which 
suited  the  poverty  of  the  poorest,  and  which 
worldly  sagacity  would  have  contemned,  ban¬ 
ished  all  difficulty,  and  has  led  to  pecuniary 
results  which  have  surprised  the  world. 

That  other  important  peculiarity  of  our  church 
already  alluded  to,  a  lay  and  itinerant  ministry , 
was  equally  providential  in  its  origin.  Wesley 


118 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


was  at  first  opposed  to  the  employment  of  lay 
preachers.  He  expected  the  co-operation  of 
the  regular  clergy.  They,  however,  were  his 
most  hostile  antagonists.  Meanwhile,  the  small 
societies  formed  by  his  followers  for  spiritual 
improvement  increased.  “  What,”  says  he, 
“  was  to  be  done  in  a  case  of  so  extreme  neces¬ 
sity,  where  so  many  souls  lay  at  stake  ?  No 
clergyman  would  assist  at  all.  The  expedient 
that  remained  was  to  seek  some  one  among 
themselves  who  was  upright  of  heart  and  of 
sound  judgment  in  the  things  of  God,  and  to 
desire  him  to  meet  the  rest  as  often  as  he  could, 
to  confirm  them,  as  he  was  able,  in  the  ways 
of  God,  either  by  reading  to  them,  or  by  prayer 
or  exhortation.”  This  was  the  origin  of  the 
Methodist  lay  ministry. 

The  multiplication  of  societies  exceeded  the 
increase  of  preachers.  This  rendered  it  neces¬ 
sary  that  the  latter  should  itinerate,  and  thence 
arose  the  Methodist  itinerancy.  Our  itinerancy 
is  the  most  admirable  feature  in  our  whole  mi¬ 
nisterial  system.  It  is  not  a  labor-saving  pro¬ 
vision — it  is  the  contrary  of  this — but  it  is  truly 
a  laborer-saving  one.  The  pastoral  service, 
which  otherwise  would  have  been  confined  to  a 
single  parish,  is  extended  by  this  plan  to  scores, 
and  sometimes  hundreds,  of  towns  and  villages, 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


119 


and,  by  the  co-operation  of  the  class  meeting, 
is  rendered  almost  as  efficient  as  it  would  be 
were  it  local.  It  is  this  peculiarity  that  has 
rendered  our  ministry  so  successful  in  our  new 
states.  It  has  also  contributed,  perhaps,  more 
than  any  other  cause,  to  maintain  a  sentiment 
of  unity  among  us.  It  gives  a  pilgrim  character 
to  our  preachers.  They  feel  that  “  here  they 
have  no  abiding  city,”  and  are  led  more  ear¬ 
nestly  to  “  seek  one  ”  out  of  sight.  It  will  not 
allow  them  to  entangle  themselves  with  local 
trammels.  The  cross  peculiarly  “crucifies  them 
to  the  world,  and  the  world  to  them.”  Their 
zeal,  rising  into  religious  chivalry ;  their  devo¬ 
tion  to  one  work ;  their  disregard  for  ease  and 
the  conveniences  of  stationary  life, — are  owing, 
under  divine  grace,  chiefly  to  their  itinerancy. 
It  has  made  them  one  of  the  most  self-sacri¬ 
ficing,  laborious,  practical,  and  successful  bodies 
of  men  at  present  to  be  found  in  the  great  field 
of  Christian  labor.  The  time  when  itinerancy 
shall  cease  in  our  ministry,  and  classes  among 
our  laity,  will  be  the  date  of  our  downfall. 


120 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS 


METHODISM  ADAPTED  TO  OUR  COUNTRY 

“  The  wilderness  and  the  solitary  'place  shall  be  glad 
for  them  :  and  the  desert  shall  rejoice ,  and  blossom 
as  the  rose." — Isaiah. 

There  is  another  and  no  less  interesting 
light  in  which  the  economy  of  Methodism 
strikes  me  as  providential ;  I  mean  its  adapta¬ 
tion  to  our  country.  It  is  a  fact  worthy  of  re¬ 
mark,  that  while  the  great  moral  revolution  of 
Methodism  was  going  on  across  the  Atlantic, 
the  greatest  political  revolution  of  modern  times 
was  in  process  on  our  own  continent ;  and 
when  we  contemplate  the  new  adaptations  of 
religious  action  which  were  evolved  by  the 
former,  we  cannot  resist  the  conviction  that 
there  was  a  providential  relation  between  the 
two  events — that  they  were  not  only  coincident 
in  time,  but  also  in  purpose.  While  Wesley 
and  his  co-laborers  were  reviving  Christianity 
there,  Washington  and  his  compatriots  were 
reviving  liberty  here.  It  was  the  American 
Revolution  that  led  to  the  development  of  the 
resources  of  this  vast  country,  and  rendered  it 
the  assembling  place  of  all  nations,  kindreds, 
tongues,  and  people ;  and  Methodism  com¬ 
menced  its  operations  sufficiently  early  to  be  in 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


121 


good  vigor  by  the  time  that  the  great  movement 
of  the  civilized  world  toward  the  West  began. 
It  seems  to  have  been  divinely  adapted  to  this 
emergency  of  our  country.  If  we  may  judge 
from  the  result,  it  was  raised  up  by  Providence 
more  in  reference  to  the  new  than  to  the  old 
world.  Its  peculiar  measures  were  strikingly 
suited  to  the  circumstances  of  the  country, 
while  those  of  every  other  contemporary  sect 
were  as  strikingly  unadapted  to  them.  Its 
zealous  spirit  readily  blended  with  the  buoyant 
sympathies  of  a  youthful  nation  flushed  with 
the  sense  of  liberty.  The  usual  process  of  a 
long  preparatory  training  for  the  ministry  could 
not  consist  with  the  rapidly-increasing  wants 
of  the  country.  Methodism  called  into  exist¬ 
ence  a  ministry  less  trained,  but  not  less  effi¬ 
cient  ;  possessing  in  a  surprising  degree  that 
sterling  good  sense  and  manly  energy,  exam¬ 
ples  of  which  great  exigences  always  produce 
among  the  people.  These  it  imbued  with  its 
own  quenchless  spirit,  and  formed  them  to  a 
standard  of  character  altogether  unique  in  the 
annals  of  mankind ;  they  composed  a  class 
which,  perhaps,  will  never  be  seen  again 
They  were  distinguished  for  native  mental 
vigor,  shrewdness,  extraordinary  knowledge 
of  human  nature,  many  of  them  for  overwhelm- 


122 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


ing  natural  eloquence,  the  effects  of  which  on 
popular  assemblies  are  scarcely  paralleled  in 
the  history  of  ancient  or  modern  oratory ;  and 
not  a  few  for  powers  of  satire  and  wit,  which 
made  the  gainsayer  cower  before  them.  To 
these  intellectual  attributes  they  added  extraor¬ 
dinary  excellences  of  the  heart,  a  zeal  which 
only  burned  more  fervently  where  that  cf  most 
men  would  have  grown  faint,  a  courage  that 
exulted  in  perils,  a  deep  tenderness  for  the 
poor  and  suffering,  a  generosity  which  knew 
no  bounds,  and  which  left  most  of  them  in  want 
in  their  latter  days,  a  forbearance  and  co-opera¬ 
tion  with  each  other  which  are  seldom  found  in 
large  bodies,  an  utter  devotion  to  one  work, 
and,  withal,  a  simplicity  of  character  which 
extended  to  their  manners  and  their  apparel. 
They  were  likewise  characterized  by  wonderful 
physical  abilities.  They  were  mostly  robust. 
The  feats  of  labor  and  endurance  which  they 
performed  in  incessantly  preaching  in  the  village 
and  in  the  “  city  full,”  in  the  slave  hut  and  the 
Indian  wigwam  ;  in  journeyings,  interrupted  by 
no  stress  of  weather ;  in  fording  creeks,  swim¬ 
ming  rivers,  sleeping  in  forests ; — these,  with 
the  novel  circumstances  with  which  such  a 
career  must  frequently  bring  them  into  collision 
would  afford  examples  of  life  and  character 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


123 


which,  in  the  hands  of  genius,  might  be  the 
materials  for  a  new  department  of  romantic 
literature.  They  were  men  who  labored  as 
if  the  judgment  fires  had  already  broken  out  on 
the  world,  and  time  was  to  end  with  their  day. 
These  were  precisely  the  men  which  the  moral 
wants  of  the  new  world,  at  the  time  we  are 
contemplating,  demanded. 

The  usual  plan  of  local  labor,  limited  to  a 
single  congregation  or  to  a  parish,  was  inade¬ 
quate  to  the  wants  of  Great  Britain  at  this  time ; 
but  much  more  so  to  those  of  the  new  continent. 
That  extraordinary  conception  of  Wesley,  an 
itinerant  ministry,  met  in  the  only  manner  pos¬ 
sible  the  circumstances  of  the  latter ;  and  the 
men  whom  we  have  described  were  the  only 
characters  who  could  have  carried  out  this 
gigantic  conception.  No  one  can  estimate 
what  would  have  been  the  probable  result  of 
that  rapid  advance  which  the  population  of  the 
United  States  was  making  beyond  the  customary 
provisions  for  religious  instruction,  had  not  this 
novel  plan  met  the  emergency.  Much  of  what 
was  then  our  frontier,  but  since  has  become  the 
most  important  states  of  the  Union,  would  have 
passed  through  the  forming  period  of  its  charac¬ 
ter  without  the  influence  of  Christian  institu¬ 
tions.  But  the  Methodist  itinerancy  has  borne 


124 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  cross,  not  only  in  the  midst,  but  in  the  van, 
of  the  hosts  of  emigration.  That  beau  ideal  of 
hardship,  disinterestedness,  and  romantic  ad¬ 
venture,  the  Methodist  itinerant,  is  found  with 
his  horse  and  saddle-bags  threading  the  trail  of 
the  savage,  and  cheering  and  blessing  with  his 
visits  the  loneliest  cottage  on  the  furthest  fron¬ 
tier.  They  have  gone  as  pioneers  to  the  abo¬ 
riginal  tribes,  and  have  gathered  into  the  pale 
of  the  church  more  of  the  children  of  the  forest 
than  any  other  sect;  they  have  scaled  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  are  building  up  Christianity  and 
civilization  on  the  shores  of  the  Columbia; 
they  are  hastening  down  toward  the  capital  of 
Montezuma,  while,  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  our  older  states,  they  have  been 
spreading  a  healthful  influence  which  has  af¬ 
fected  all  classes,  so  that  their  cause  includes 
not  only  a  larger  aggregate  population  than  any 
other  sect,  but  especially  a  larger  proportion  of 
those  classes  whose  moral  elevation  is  the  most 
difficult  and  the  most  important, — the  Savage, 
the  slave,  the  free  negro,  and  the  lower  classes 
generally. 

The  complex  and  yet  harmonious  constitu¬ 
tion  of  the  Methodist  Church  in  the  United 
States  would  be  an  interesting  subject  of  dis¬ 
cussion.  It  is  a  vast  system  of  wheels  within 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


125 


wheels,  but  all  revolving  with  the  ease  of  a 
well-made  machine.  Our  general  conferences 
occurring  once  in  four  years,  the  annual  con¬ 
ferences  once  a  year,  the  quarterly  conferences 
once  in  three  months,  the  leaders’  meetings 
once  a  month,  the  classes  once  a  week,  form 
an  admirable  series  of  gradations  extending 
from  a  week  to  four  years,  and  covering  all  the 
successive  intervals.  To  these  correspond  also 
«Dur  gradations  of  labor, — bishops  traversing  the 
•continent.,  presiding  elders  traveling  over  ex¬ 
tended  districts,  circuit  preachers  occupying 
less  extensive  fields,  assisted  by  local  preachers 
and  exhorters  ;  and  finally,  leaders  inspecting, 
weekly,  divisions  of  the  local  societies.  This 
exact  machinery  is  the  secret  of  the  energy 
and  permanence  of  so  diffuse  and  varied  a 
system.  And  was  it  not  providential  that  such 
a  system  was  raised  up  at  such  a  time  ? 


126 


SKETCHES  AS  D  INCIDENTS. 


THE  HOSPITABLE  WIDOW  AND  THE  TRACT. 

“  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  for  thou  shalt  find 
it  after  many  days." — Solomon. 

The  day  of  judgment  alone  can  reveal  the 
amount  of  good  accomplished  by  the  humble 
instrumentality  of  tracts.  God’s  word  is  the 
“  tree  of  life,”  but  tracts  are  its  leaves — the 
leaves  which  are  for  the  “  healing  of  the  na¬ 
tions.”  Cheap,  brief,  and  pithy  statements  of 
religious  truth — cheap,  that  they  may  be  multi¬ 
plied  and  scattered  broadcast ;  brief,  that  they 
may  be  read  in  the  moments  of  leisure  which 
the  laboring  man  can  snatch  from  his  toil ; 
and  pithy,  that  they  may  be  read  with  interest 
and  profit — such  publications  ought  to  fall,  like 
pure  snow  flakes,  on  all  lands.  Like  the  fall 
of  the  blossom  leaves,  they  would  be  followed 
by  fruit  in  due  season.  If  we  cannot  give 
whole  loaves,  let  us  multiply  by  breaking  them, 
and  scatter  the  fragments,  at  least. 

I  could  fill  this  volume  with  illustrations  of 
their  utility.  I  will  give,  however,  but  one  fact, 
another  example  of  the  usefulness  of  Dr.  Coke.* 

*  This  anecdote  is  authenticated  in  one  of  the  Reports 
of  the  English  Religious  Tract  Society. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


127 


This  indefatigable  servant  of  Christ-  was  tra¬ 
veling  once  in  what  was  then  a  wilderness  part 
of  our  country.  At  that  time  there  were  few 
bridges,  but  to  swim  streams  was  a  small  feat 
with  the  hardy  pioneers  of  Methodism  and  their 
well-trained  steeds.  It  was  an  exploit,  how¬ 
ever,  to  which  the  good  doctor  and  his  horse 
wei  e  not  accustomed.  A  river  lay  in  his  course, 
and  he  endeavored,  by  an  indirect  route,  to 
cross  it  at  the  ford,  but  missed  the  place.  Im¬ 
patient  to  proceed,  and  ambitious  to  equal  the 
achievements  of  his  American  brethren,  he  patted 
the  neck  of  his  horse,  and  plunged  into  the  flood. 
The  water  was  deep,  and  the  horse  becoming 
alarmed,  began  to  struggle  and  sink,  to  the  immi¬ 
nent  peril  of  his  rider.  The  doctor,  extricating 
his  feet  from  the  stirrups,  seized  on  an  over¬ 
hanging  bough,  and,  after  being  thoroughly 
drenched,  reached  the  shore,  to  which  the 
affrighted  animal  had  also  returned. 

He  remained  in  the  forest  till  he  had  dried 
his  clothes  in  the  sun,  and  then  mounted  to 
leturn.  On  the  road  he  met  a  man  who  direct¬ 
ed  him  to  the  nearest  village,  and  gave  him 
the  address  of  a  kind  family,  where  he  might 
expect  to  be  hospitably  entertained  as  an  am¬ 
bassador  of  God.  The  doctor,  as  usual,  gave 
him  a  hearty  word  of  exhortation  and  rode  on, 


128  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS- 

wearied  with  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  but  happy 
in  the  expectation  of  a  cordial  reception  and 
comfortable  rest  in  the  neighboring  hamlet. 

Early  in  the  evening  he  arrived  at  the  village, 
and  was  received  with  all  kindness  by  the  good 
lady  of  the  house  to  which  he  had  been  directed. 
The  table  was  spread  with  a  bountiful  meal, 
and  after  his  usual  domestic  service,  which 
consisted  in  an  appropriate  exhortation,  besides 
the  Scripture  lesson  and  prayer,  he  retired  to 
rest,  thankful  to  God  for  so  comfortable  a  con¬ 
clusion  to  the  trials  of  the  day.  The  next 
morning  he  took  an  early  leave  of  the  family, 
addressing  to  each  some  spiritual  counsel,  and 
leaving  behind  him  a  single  tract,  for  at  that 
day  these  convenient  little  vehicles  of  truth 
were  rare  and  precious,  and  the  few  who  dis¬ 
tributed  them  were  obliged  to  make  the  most 
of  them. 

The  doctor  returned  to  England,  visited  Ire¬ 
land  and  the  West  Indies,  traversing,  as  usual, 
land  and  sea  in  the  cause  of  his  Master.  After 
five  years  had  passed  away,  he  was  again  on 
the  American  continent.  On  his  way  to  one 
of  the  conferences,  he  overtook  a  number  of  the 
preachers  who  were  journeying  thither.  They 
all  hailed  their  old  friend  and  bishop  with 
hearty  congratulations ;  but  one  young  man 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  129 

who  accompanied  them  was  deeply  affected  at 
the  unexpected  meeting,  and  was  observed  to 
wipe  the  tears  from  his  eyes.  When  they  had 
rode  several  miles,  the  young  man  contrived  to 
get  by  the  side  of  the  doctor,  and  on  inquiring 
if  he  recollected  being  in  a  certain  part  of 
America  about  five  years  ago,  he  answered  in 
the  affirmative. 

“  And  do  you  recollect,  sir,  being  nearly 
drowned  in  trying  to  cross  a  river  1” 

“  I  remember  it  quite  well.” 

“  And  do  you  remember  spending  the  night 
at  the  cottage  of  a  widow  lady  in  such  a  village  ?” 

“  Indeed  I  do,”  said  the  doctor,  “  and  I  shall 
not  soon  forget  the  kindness  shown  me  by  that 
excellent  family.” 

“  And  do  you  remember  that  you  presented 
a  tract  to  the  lady  when  you  departed  the  next 
morning  ?” 

“  I  do  not  recall  that,”  replied  the  doctor,  “  but 
as  I  do  so  often,  it  is  quite  possible  I  did  so 
then.” 

“  Well,  sir,  you  did  leave  there  a  tract,  which 
that  lady  still  keeps,  and  if  you  ever  pass 
through  the  village  again  you  can  see  it ;  but 
no  money  can  purchase  it  from  her.  She  read 
it,  and  the  Lord  made  it  the  instrument  of  her 

conversion  ;  a  number  of  her  children  anr>  her 

9 


130 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


neighbors  have  also  been  converted  through 
its  instrumentality,  and  there  is  now  in  the  vil¬ 
lage  a  prosperous  society.” 

“  God  be  praised,”  exclaimed  the  doctor,  and 
the  tears  gushed  in  a  flood  from  his  eyes. 

The  young  man  weeping,  also,  proceeded, — - 
“  I  have  not  quite  reported  all  yet.  I  am  one 
of  the  sons  of  that  widow,  and  I  shall  ever  bless 
God  for  that  tract,  for  by  reading  it,  my  feet 
were  directed  in  the  way  to  heaven,  and  I  am 
now  going  to  conference  to  be  proposed  as  a 
traveling  preacher.  My  saddle-bags  are  half 
full  of  tracts,  and  I  shall  ever  carry  them  with 
me,  and  scatter  them  in  my  course.” 

Reader,  though  you  may  consider  yourself 
the  feeblest  child  of  God,  here  is  a  potent  means 
of  good  which  you  can  use  daily.  Have  you 
small  talents  ?  Can  you  not  speak  with  readi¬ 
ness  for  your  Lord  ?  Then  carry  with  you 
these  little  messages  of  truth.  Let  them  speak 
in  your  stead.  You  may  thus  scatter  seed  that 
may  bring  forth  fruit,  “  some  a  hundred-fold 
some  sixty,  some  thirty.” 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


131 


MY  LIBRARY. 

On  booke  for  to  rede  I  me  delite, 

And  to  them  give  I  faith  and  full  credence, 

And  in  my  heart  have  them  in  reverence." — Chaucer. 

In  all  my  changes  I  have  kept  sacredly  my 
books.  They  are  not  two  hundred  in  number, 
great  and  small,  but  include  good  specimens  of 
the  most  valuable  classes.  How  many  happ)' 
hours  do  I  owe  them !  In  many  a  long 
journey,  on  horseback,  in  the  wilderness,  have 
I  beguiled  the  weary  day  by  converse  with  a 
favorite  author  ;  and  now  that  infirmities  have 
compelled  me  to  retire  from  my  Master’s  work, 
these  fast  friends  still  cleave  to  me  in  my  soli¬ 
tude,  comforting  and  enlivening  it  by  their  in¬ 
structive  companionship.  In  sickness  they 
have  relieved  me  more  than  medicine,  in  sorrow 
they  have  been  my  solace,  and  in  poverty  my 
riches ;  and  now,  as  I  sit  penning  these  lines, 
they  are  round  about  me,  looking  like  the 
familiar  faces  of  old  friends,  full  of  love,  tried 
and  true.  “  Blessed  be  God,”  said  one,  “  for 
books  and  “  they  are  not  wise,”  said  another, 
“  who  object  to  much  reading.”  Like  the  men 
who  write  them,  they  are  of  all  characters,  but 
we  may  select  them  as  we  choose  our  friends  ; 


132 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


and  when  once  we  select  good  ones,  unlike 
men,  they  vary  not,  but  are  steadfast  in  theii 
integrity. 

I  can  never  be  solitary  with  good  books  about 
me  ;  a  blessed  society  are  they,  ready  at  any 
moment  to  listen  to  our  inquiries,  and  entertain 
us  with  their  tranquil  converse.  By  biographies, 
I  can  assemble  round  my  winter  hearth  the 
men  whose  thoughts  have  stirred  nations  and 
impelled  ages.  While  living,  their  company 
and  conversations  were  enjoyed  only  by  those 
who  moved  in  the  same  sphere  of  life  ;  but  in 
books  they  obey  my  bidding,  and  divested  of 
those  forms  of  life  which  would  only  have  em¬ 
barrassed  me,  they  become  familiar  friends,  and 
teach  me  the  lessons  of  their  wisdom. 

I  have  a  few  volumes  of  history.  They 
crowd  ages  of  existence  into  my  evening  hours  ; 
fields,  cities,  realms,  with  their  armies,  arts, 
and  revolutions,  pass  before  me,  within  my  hum¬ 
ble  walls,  like  a  magnificent  drama. 

I  have  books  of  travel.  Though  their  authors 
are  in  their  graves,  I  have  only  to  open  their 
pages,  when,  as  by  magic,  they  appear  before 
me  ;  and  I  attend  with  breathless  interest  to 
the  recital  of  their  voyages,  their  adventures, 
the  countries  they  visited,  and  all  the  scenes  of 
novelty  and  marvel  they  witnessed.  Thus  in 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


133 


few  hours  I  sail  over  seas,  and  travel  over  con¬ 
tinents,  enjoying  all  the  pleasures  and  suffering 
none  of  the  perils  of  the  journey. 

I  have  a  few  good  volumes  of  poetry.  The 
language  of  harmony  and  the  bright  ideals  of 
genius  are  addressed  by  them  to  the  deepest 
susceptibilities  of  my  heart. 

I  have  books  of  religion.  In  them,  men  who 
have  gone  up  to  heaven  still  instruct  me  in 
the  way  thither,  and  console  me  in  the  trials  of 
my  pilgrimage.  And,  above  all,  in  my  Bible  I 
have  an  exhaustless  treasure — the  most  simple 
and  beautiful  construction  of  the  English  lan¬ 
guage,  the  richest  poetry,  the  most  graphic 
portraits,  the  most  interesting  history,  and  the 
purest  truth.  Kings,  prophets,  and  apostles 
move  before  me,  and  the  visions  and  voices  of 
the  invisible  world  come  down  upon  my  soul. 

If  there  were  but  one  copy  of  any  of  the  great 
iterary  works  extant,  one  Paradise  Lost,  one 
Pilgrim’s  Progress,  or,  above  all,  one  Bible,  how 
would  it  be  prized  !  What  treasure  would  not 
be  given  for  it !  How  happy  would  be  esteem¬ 
ed  the  possessor!  But  are  they  less  a  bless¬ 
ing,  because  they  may  be  obtained  by  the  hum¬ 
blest  man  ? 

With  such  solace  from  books,  it  is  not  sur¬ 
prising  that  the  love  of  reading,  like  the  physical 


134 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


appetites,  grows  by  indulgence,  and  frequently 
assumes  the  intensity  of  a  passion.  “  A  taste 
for  books,”  says  Gibbon,  “  is  the  pleasure  and 
glory  of  my  life.  I  would  not  exchange  it  for 
the  wealth  of  the  Indies.”  Cicero  says  that  he 
occupied  himself  with  books  at  “  home  and 
abroad,  in  the  city  and  the  country,  walking  and 
riding.”  Pliny  says  that  even  in  hunting,  he 
employed  his  intervals  in  reading.  And  our 
earliest  poet,  Chaucer,  has  expressed  a  still 
stronger  passion  : 

“  But  as  for  me,  although  I  can  but  lite,* 

On  booke  for  to  rede  I  me  delite, 

And  to  them  give  I  faithe  and  full  credence, 

And  in  my  heart  have  them  in  reverence  ; 

So  heartily  that  there  is  game  none 
That  from  my  bookes  meketh  me  to  gone.” 

Thus  books  are  sources  of  genuine  pleasure. 
The  mind,  like  the  body,  is  formed  for  activity. 
In  higher  studies,  its  activity,  though  profitable, 
is  laborious  and  painful,  like  the  physical  toil 
which  excavates  the  golden  mine ;  but  in  mis¬ 
cellaneous  reading,  while  it  is  not  without  profit, 
it  is  also  easy  and  delightful,  like  the  plea¬ 
surable  exercise  of  a  walk  amid  the  fresh 
breezes,  the  bright  light,  the  varied  charms  of 
the  landscape.  As  a  relaxation  from  manual  toil, 


*  Know  but  little. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


135 


what  can  be  more  delicious  than  good  books  ? 
In  them  the  manifest  scenes  of  life  are  painted, 
the  affections  of  the  heart  are  embalmed,  the 
creations  of  the  imagination  are  pictured,  the 
gorgeous  pageants  of  history  revolve,  the  beau¬ 
ties  of  nature  and  the  wonders  of  art  are  exhi¬ 
bited,  the  noblest  thoughts  of  the  noblest  minds, 
the  best  sentiments  of  the  best  hearts,  are  trea¬ 
sured. 

Books  are  our  best  companions.  They  change 
not,  they  forsake  us  not.  They  furnish  us  always 
the  same  faithful  and  sincere  instructions. 
They  are  friends  with  whom  we  can  converse 
in  the  loneliest  solitude  ;  and  often  have  they 
gladdened  the  spirit  of  genius  amid  the  damps 
of  the  prison  cell,  and  the  wretchedness  of  the 
garret.  Well  could  the  immortal  author  of  the 
“  Faerie  Queene,”  in  the  neglect  and  want  of 
his  latter  years,  sing, — 

“  However  men  may  me  despise  and  spite, 

I  feed  on  such  contentment  of  good  thought, 

And  please  myself  with  mine  own  self-delight, 

In  contemplating  things  heavenly  wrought ; 

And  loathing  earth,  I  look  to  yonder  sky, 

And  being  driven  hence,  I  thither  fly.” 

Books  are  the  prime  means  of  intellectual  im¬ 
provement,  and  no  insignificant  instruments  of 
moral  influence.  Various  reading  has  been 


136 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


condemned  as  unfavorable  to  mental  vigor  and 
originality.  It  has  been  said  that  perhaps 
N  the  ancients  owed  much  of  their  excellence  to 
the  fact,  that  they  had  fewer  books  than  we, 
and,  therefore,  read  less  and  thought  more  ;  and 
even  in  their  scarcity  of  literary  works,  one 
of  them  advised  the  studious  youth  of  Rome  to 
read  much,  but  read  few  books.  The  advice  is 
certainly  pertinent,  but  may  be  much  qualified. 
It  is  unquestionable  that  the  most  powerful 
minds  have  been  distinguished  for  extensive 
research.  Fisher  Ames  said  that  the  largest 
library  in  the  United  States,  in  his  day,  did 
not  equal  the  number  of  works  referred  to  as 
authorities  in  Gibbon’s  “  Decline  and  Fall.” 
Some  of  the  most  distinguished  English  writers 
have  been  various  and  voracious  readers.  Ba¬ 
con  was  a  great  reader  as  well  as  a  great  ob¬ 
server  and  thinker,  and  his  own  quaint  remark 
suggests  the  manner  in  which  he  avoided  any 
evil  from  the  indulgence;  “  Some  books,”  -aid 
he,  “  are  to  be  tasted,  some  swallowed,  and 
some  few  chewed  and  digested.”  Not  only  do 
individual  instances  confirm  the  position,  but 
the  most  intellectual  nation  of  the  age  presents 
an  example  of  the  most  various  and  minute 
research,  combined  with  the  most  profound 
originality.  Bibliomania  is  the  very  genius  of 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


137 


a  German  student.  Nature  has  provided  an 
endless  variety  for  the  nourishment  of  man,  and 
it  is  not  the  meagre  and  unvarying  use  of  her 
blessings  which  invigorates ;  the  healthy  may 
enjoy  them  abundantly,  provided  they  be  sea¬ 
sonable  and  temperate. 

But  however  strong  may  be  the  objections  to 
the  miscellaneous  use  of  books  by  professed 
students,  they  do  not  apply  to  the  popular  mind. 
The  mass  of  the  people  have  neither  the  dispo¬ 
sition  nor  the  convenience  for  mental  discipline. 
With  them  there  is  but  one  alternative, — either 
to  reap  the  slight  improvements,  but  genuine 
pleasures,  of  occasional  and  desultory  reading, 
or  suffer  the  inanition  or  worse  accompaniments 
of  an  habitual  neglect  of  books.  But  though 
their  improvement  by  such  a  course  be  but 
slight,  compared  with  the  effects  of  systematic 
study,  yet,  in  itself  considered,  it  is  vast.  The 
inert  faculties  are  awakened ;  the  tendency  of 
the  uniform  and  minutely-divided  mechanic  arts 
to  stint  the  mind  is  relieved ;  the  delightful  in¬ 
stinct  of  taste  is  called  into  play  ;  the  languid 
imagination  is  vivified,  and  the  judgment  exer¬ 
cised.  A  mechanic,  who  is  accustomed  to 
spend  an  hour  or  two  daily  in  judicious  reading, 
will  show  its  effects  in  his  whole  bearing.  It 
may  awaken  within  him  no  peculiar  energy,  it 


138 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


may  impart  no  new  talent,  but  it  will  give  a  better 
tone  to  his  ordinary  powers,  and  greater  purity 
to  his  common  sentiments  ;  and  it  will,  almost 
invariably,  so  far  modify  his  whole  character, 
as  to  distinguish  him  from  the  mass  of  his  class. 
If  the  vast  thousands  of  the  Russian  empire  were 
not  only  taught  to  read,  but  inspired  with  a  love 
of  reading,  and  supplied  with  domestic  libraries, 
who  doubts  that,  in  a  few  years,  a  miracle  of 
national  improvement  would  follow  ?  Who 
doubts  that  every  national  aspect  would  be 
transformed,  and  the  whole  realm  lifted  up  as  by 
its  four  corners  ?  The  efficacy  of  such  an  ex¬ 
periment  would  be  second  only  to  that  of  a  pure 
religious  faith. 

The  moral  influence  of  popular  reading  is  in¬ 
valuable.  The  maxim,  that 

“A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing,” 
may  be  true  (though  not  without  much  qualifica¬ 
tion)  when  applied  to  the  scientific  and  the 
would-be  learned,  but  it  is  altogether  fallacious 
in  respect  to  popular  intelligence.  The  people 
are  not  speculative  ;  they  are  not  generally  vain  ; 
they  are  frank,  confiding,  implicit.  Though 
the  chief  sufferers  by  religious  or  political 
errors,  yet  are  they  seldom  their  originators. 
They  have  too  little  presumption  to  disbelieve 
received  truths,  and  too  much  common  sense  to 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


139 


propound  theoretical  absurdities  ;  if  they  cannot 
be  learned,  still  they  may  be  intelligent  without 
danger.  Their  intelligence  is  the  conservative 
virtue  of  society.  It  is  not  the  influence  of  the 
highly  learned  which  preserves  a  community 
from  the  corruptions  of  error,  but  the  aggregate 
intelligence  of  the  middling  classes.  If  religion 
is  the  salt  of  the  earth,  this  is  a  part  of  its  savor 
— it  always  coexists  with  genuine  religion,  and 
cannot  exist  without  it. 

Books  are  good  means  of  domestic  enjoyment 
and  virtue ;  and  if  ever  there  comes  a  golden 
age  of  popular  intelligence,  its  indication  will 
be  the  domestic  library ,  not  scattered  amid  the 
rubbish  of  shelves,  or  concealed  in  the  privacy 
of  a  closet,  but  placed  prominently  in  the  par¬ 
lor  as  its  most  esteemed  furniture.  Next  to 
the  beautiful  scene  of  domestic  worship,  what 
is  more  delightful  than  the  sight  of  a  family 
plying  at  the  fireside  the  light  tasks  of  the  eve¬ 
ning,  listening  to  the  voice  of  the  reader,  and 
varying  the  tranquil  scene  by  conversational 
remarks  ?  A  love  of  books  thus  inspired  in  the 
minds  of  the  young  may  have  the  most  salutary 
influence  on  their  coming  years.  It  may  de¬ 
velop  the  latent  energies  of  genius,  or  quicken 
and  attemper  the  aspirations  of  early  virtue  and 
piety.  The  mechanic,  with  such  an  attraction 


140 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


at  his  hearth,  will  learn  to  despise  the  gross 
pleasures  of  vice  and  conviviality ;  and  the 
affluent  and  the  educated  will  find  in  such 
a  combination  of  the  pleasures  of  the  mind 
with  the  affections  of  the  heart,  one  of  the 
most  elevated  delights  of  life.  A  distinguished 
living  writer  gives  an  example  in  the  history  of 
the  lamented  Princess  Charlotte : — “  She  and 
her  consort,  Prince  Leopold,  lived  together  in 
the  greatest  harmony  and  affection  ;  and,  from 
what  her  biographers  have  stated  respecting 
her  education  and  pursuits,  it  appears  that  the 
mutual  friendship  of  these  illustrious  individuals 
was  heightened  and  cemented  by  the  rational 
conversation  in  which  they  indulged,  and  the 
elevated  studies  to  which  they  were  devoted. 
Her  course  of  education  embraced  the  English, 
classical,  French,  German,  and  Italian  lan¬ 
guages  :  arithmetic,  geography,  astronomy,  the 
first  six  books  of  Euclid,  algebra,  mechanics, 
and  the  principles  of  optics  and  perspective, 
with  history,  the  policy  of  governments,  and 
particularly  the  principles  of  the  Christian  reli¬ 
gion.  She  was  also  a  skillful  musician,  had  a 
fine  conception  of  the  picturesque  in  nature,  and 
was  fond  of  drawing.  She  took  great  pleasure 
in  strolling  on  the  beach,  in  marine  excursions, 
in  walking  in  the  country,  in  rural  scenery,  in 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  141 

conversing  freely  with  the  rustic  inhabitants, 
and  in  investigating  every  object  which  seemed 
worthy  of  her  attention.  She  was  an  enthusi¬ 
astic  admirer  of  the  grand  and  beautiful  in 
nature,  and  the  ocean  was  to  her  an  object  of 
peculiar  interest.  After  her  union  with  the 
prince,  as  their  tastes  were  similar,  they  en¬ 
gaged  in  the  same  studies.  Gardening,  draw¬ 
ing,  music,  and  rational  conversation,  diversified 
their  leisure  hours.  They  took  great  pleasure 
in  the  culture  of  flowers,  in  the  classification  of 
them,  and  in  the  formation,  with  scientific  skill, 
of  a  hortus  siccus.  But  the  library ,  which  was 
furnished  with  the  best  books  in  our  language, 
was  their  favorite  place  of  resort ;  and  their 
chief  daily  pleasure  was  mutual  instruction. 
They  were  seldom  apart,  either  in  their  occu¬ 
pations  or  in  their  amusements  ;  nor  were  they 
separated  in  their  religious  duties.  *  They  took 
sweet  counsel  together,  and  walked  to  the  house 
of  God  in  company  and  it  is  also  stated,  on 
good  authority,  that  they  maintained  the  worship 
of  God  in  their  family,  which  was  regularly  at¬ 
tended  by  every  branch  of  their  household.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  they  exhibited  an  auspicious 
and  a  delightful  example  of  private  and  domes¬ 
tic  virtue,  of  conjugal  attachment,  and  of  unob¬ 
trusive  charity  and  benevolence.” 


142 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


MIGHTY  MEN. 

“  We  shall  reap  if  we  faint  not.” — St.  Paul 

The  truly  mighty  men  of  history  were  made 
such  more  by  industry  than  by  genius.  Let  the 
lesson  be  well  learned  by  the  young.  There 
have  been  great  men  who  were  not  able  men — 
fictitiously  great;  their  greatness  arising  more 
from  their  fortunate  circumstances  than  from 
themselves  ;  but  the  truly  great  have  generally 
been  the  “laboring  classes”  of  their  respective 
departments,  genuine  workmen.  The  young 
man  who  does  not  feel  strongly  within  him  the 
disposition  to  work ,  may  entertain  no  high  am¬ 
bition  for  usefulness  or  eminence. 

Dr.  Samuel  Clarke  said  the  old  adage  of 
“too  many  irons  in  the  fire  conveys  an  abomi¬ 
nable  old  lie ;  have  all  in,  shovel,  tongs,  and 
poker.”  It  is  not  so  much  the  multiplicity 
of  employments,  as  the  want  of  system  in 
them,  that  disturbs  and  injures  both  the  work 
and  workman.  Wesley  did  everything  by 
system,  and  how  much  did  he  achieve  ?  He 
traveled  about  five  thousand  miles  a  year, 
preached  about  three  times  a  day,  beginning  at 
five  o’clock  in  the  morning,  and  his  published 
works  amount  to  about  two  hundred  volumes. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


143 


Asbury  traveled  about  six  thousand  miles  a 
year,  and  preached  incessantly.  Coke  crossed 
the  Atlantic  eighteen  times,  preached,  wrote, 
traveled,  established  missions,  begged  from 
door  to  door  for  them,  and  labored  in  all  re¬ 
spects  as  if,  like  the  apostles,  he  would  “  turn 
the  world  upside  down.”  At  nearly  seventy 
years  of  age  he  started  to  Christianize  India! 
Baxter,  with  numerous  and  grievous  diseases, 
wrote  a  surprising  number  of  books,  practiced 
physic,  and,  as  he  took  no  fees,  was  oppressed 
with  patients  ;  spent  two  days  a  week  in  cate¬ 
chetical  instruction,  and,  besides  special  ser¬ 
mons  and  several  regular  evening  services, 
preached  three  times  a  week.  Calvin,  tortured 
with  gout,  stranguary,  stone,  catarrh,  and  other 
infirmities,  acted,  while  in  Geneva,  as  pastor 
and  professor,  wrote  nine  folio  volumes,  with 
profound  thought,  corresponded  with  all  parts 
of  the  continent,  every  other  day  lectured,  and 
every  other  week  preached  daily.  He  states, 
in  one  of  his  letters,  the  work  of  one  day  while 
at  Strasburgh.  It  consists  of  a  sermon,  a  lec¬ 
ture,  the  correction  of  twenty  sheets  of  manu¬ 
script,  four  letters,  besides  offices  of  advice 
and  reconciliation  in  more  than  a  dozen  cases. 
Luther  was  one  of  the  most  extensive  writers 
of  his  age.  He  maintained  an  immense  cor- 


144 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


respondence,  the  published  part  filling  numerous 
volumes,  lectured  regularly  before  the  univer¬ 
sity,  preached  nearly  every  day,  bore  the  chief 
burden  of  the  churches,  fought  emperor,  pope, 
and  council,  lived  constantly  in  the  agitation 
of  controversy,  and  yet  found  leisure  for  the 
enjoyments  of  domestic  life,  and  the  recreations 
of  music  and  poety.  Nearly  all  these  wonder¬ 
ful  men  were  always  oppressed  with  poverty. 
Wesley  left  not  more  than  ten  pounds  for  his 
funeral  expenses  ;  Asbury  received  not  two  dol¬ 
lars  a  week,  besides  his  entertainment  and  tra¬ 
veling  expenses  ;  Baxter  received  sixty  pounds 
a  year ;  Calvin  sold  his  books  to  pay  his  rent ; 
and  Luther  had  to  beg  a  coat  of  the  elector. 

“  Labor  conquers  all  things,”  was  a  maxim 
worthy  of  the  nation  which  conquered  the 
world.  It  is  the  testimony  of  almost  all  literary 
biography,  that  intellectual  greatness  is  most 
commonly  found,  at  first,  in  obscurity  and 
poverty.  In  the  higher  walks  of  life,  where 
the  pleasures  and  honors  of  opulence  pamper 
the  sensuality  and  flatter  the  vanity  of  the  mind, 
it  is  seldom  capable  of  those  high  aspirations 
which  lead  to  intellectual  eminence — while  in 
poverty  and  obscurity  it  is  dependent  upon  its 
own  resources.  It  must  remain  unhonored,  or 
rise  by  the  might  of  its  own  energy.  It  acquires 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  145 

% 

in  such  circumstances  one  quality,  at  'east, 
which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  true  great¬ 
ness  of  mind,  a  noble  sense  of  self-dependence. 

Nearly  all  the  great  names,  conspicuous  on 
the  catalogue  of  renown,  are  proofs  of  the  suc¬ 
cess  of  mind  in  contending  with  difficulties. 

Metastasios,  a  friendless  lad,  singing  verses 
in  the  streets,  became  one  of  the  greatest  au¬ 
thors  in  Italian  literature.  Gifford,  the  cabin 
boy,  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  writers  of 
his  age.  Epictetus,  the  moralist,  was  born  a 
slave,  but  became  the  boast  of  the  stoical  sect 
of  philosophers,  and  the  intimate  friend  of  the 
best  emperors  of  Rome.  Ferguson  was  a 
shepherd’s  boy,  but  raised  himself  to  the  honor 
of  the  first  astronomer  of  his  age,  at  whose  lec¬ 
tures  royalty  itself  listened  with  delight.  Mur¬ 
ray  was  a  shepherd’s  boy,  but  he  became  one 
of  the  first  instructors  of  mankind.  Brown,  the 
author  of  the  Commentary,  Concordance,  and 
Bible  Dictionary,  was  likewise  a  shepherd’s 
boy.  Terence  was  an  African  slave,  but  raised 
himself  to  such  an  elevation  that  the  haughty 
consuls  of  Rome  courted  his  society.  Franklin, 
the  printer,  became  one  of  the  first  men  of  his 
age.  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  the  son  of  a  wood- 
carver,  and  the  apprentice  of  an  apothecary, 
became  the  first  chemist  of  his  times.  Colum- 

10 


146 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


bus,  the  sailor,  left  a  new  world  for  his  me¬ 
morial.  Roger  Sherman,  the  statesman  of  the 
American  Revolution,  was  a  shoemaker.  Hers- 
chel,  the  great  astronomer,  was  a  British  soldier 
in  Nova  Scotia ;  he  commenced  the  study  of 
astronomy  while  watching  on  the  sentry  post 
at  night,  and  has  fixed  his  name  among  the 
orbs.  Samuel  Lee  was  a  carpenter,  but  became 
a  professor  of  Hebrew  in  Cambridge  University, 
England.  Adam  Clarke  was  the  son  of  a 
country  schoolmaster,  but  rose  to  be  one  of  the 
first  Biblical  scholars  of  modem  times.  Robert 
Hall  was  the  son  of  a  poor  dissenting  minister  ; 
he  became  one  of  the  most  splendid  orators  of 
the  British  pulpit,  and  one  of  the  best  writers 
of  the  English  language.  Cuvier,  the  greatest 
of  modern  naturalists,  was  the  son  of  a  pension¬ 
ed  soldier,  and  a  charity  scholar  at  college. 
Prideaux,  the  author  of  the  “  Connections,”  and 
bishop  of  Worcester,  could  not  be  kept  at 
school  by  his  poor  parents  longer  than  to  learn 
to  read  and  write,  and  he  obtained  the  rest  of  his 
education  by  walking  to  Oxford  and  obtaining 
employment  in  the  kitchen  of  Exeter  College. 

Nearly  the  whole  list  of  worthies  on  the 
record  of  literary  fame  were  thus  diamonds 
found  in  the  mine — pearls  brought  up  from  the 
depths  of  obscurity — -men  who,  but.  for  their 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS  14? 

own  energy,  would  have  passed  away,  with  the 
mass  of  mankind,  “  little  and  unknown.” 

The  most  essential  requisite  for  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge,  under  such  circumstances,  is  un¬ 
yielding  determination.  This  is  of  such  great 
importance,  as  almost  to  make  up  for  deficiency 
ii  any  other  respect.  It  is  truly  wonderful 
what  this  noble  quality  has  accomplished.  The 
history  of  literature  is  full  of  its  miracles.  In 
cases  where  ordinary  intellects  would  quail  in 
despair,  minds  nerved  with  this  high  energy  of 
purpose  have  seemed  only  to  gather  new 
strength,  have  wrought  themselves  into  a  kind 
of  omnipotency  which  has  swept  away  the 
most  appalling  difficulties,  and  enabled  them 
to  trample  into  the  dust  the  most  formidable 
obstacles.  It  is,  even  in  many  cases,  pre¬ 
ferable  to  genius.  Genius  is  morbid,  erratic, 
burning  too  often  in  fitful  gleams,  or  with 
too  intense  ardor,  so  as  to  consume  itself. 
It  is  brilliant  like  a  meteor,  but  has  no  fixed 
law’s  to  keep  it  steady.  Genius  frequently 
leads  to  disregard  of  the  means  of  improve¬ 
ment,  and  thereby  disappoints  its  own  hopes. 
But  an  ordinary  mind,  strengthened  with  this 
lofty  resolve,  is  regular  in  its  progress ;  it  may 
be  slow,  but  it  is  sure.  It  does  not  rush  onward, 
breathless  and  wild,  like  a  frantic  maniac, 


148 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


but  moves  with  majestic  calmness,  stepping 
always  on  a  sure  position,  and  surveying  the 
way  as  it  goes.  Genius  is  fit  for  extra  circum¬ 
stances  only ;  a  determined  though  ordinary 
mind  is  common  place.  It  is  practical,  and  can 
Handle  common  things.  Genius  is  like  the  pre¬ 
cious  gold  ore,  which  is  adapted  to  shine,  a 
pretty  thing,  an  ornament  for  the  finger 
or  ear,  or  fit  for  the  nice  workmanship  of  a 
watch  ;  a  common  mind  nerved  with  resolution 
is  like  the  ruder  but  more  useful  ore  of  iron,  fit 
alike  for  a  steam  engine,  an  artillery  piece  to 
hurl  its  blazing  thunder,  or  a  gleaming  sword. 
Genius  is  a  fragile  flower  which  blossoms  beau¬ 
tifully  and  fades  easily ;  a  practical  but  deter¬ 
mined  mind  can  grow  up  in  the  storm,  like  the 
oak,  spread  its  limbs  to  battle  with  the  winds, 
and  though  it  may  be  shorn  of  its  “  leafy  ho¬ 
nors  ”  by  the  wintry  blast,  yet  its  roots  are 
deep  in  the  earth,  its  branches  strong,  and  when 
the  summer  returns  it  thrives  as  vigorously  as 
ever. 

I  have  met  somewhere  with  a  noble  passage 
on  the  subject ;  it  is  evidently  the  opinion  of  a 
master  mind :  “  More  is  to  be  expected  from 
laborious  mediocrity  than  from  the  erratic  efforts 
of  a  wayward  genius.  Demosthenes  elaborat¬ 
ed  sentence  after  sentence,  and  Newton  rose  to 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  149 

the  heavens  by  the  steps  of  geometry,  and  said, 
at  the  close  of  his  career,  that  it  was  only  in  the 
habit  of  patient  thinking  he  was  conscious  of 
differing  from  other  men.  It  is  generally 
thought  that  men  are  signalized  more  by 
talent  than  by  industry ;  it  is  felt  to  be  a  vul¬ 
garizing  of  genius  to  attribute  it  to  anything 
but  direct  inspiration  from  Heaven  ;  they  over¬ 
look  the  steady  and  persevering  devotion  of 
mind  to  one  subject.  There  are  higher  and 
lower  walks  in  scholarship,  but  the  highest  is  a 
walk  of  labor.  We  are  often  led  into  a  con 
trary  opinion  by  looking  at  the  magnitude  of  the 
object  in  its  finished  state,  such  as  the  ‘  Prin- 
cipia’  of  Newton,  and  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt, 
without  reflecting  on  the  gradual,  continuous,  I 
had  almost  said,  creeping  progress  by  which 
they  grew  into  objects  of  the  greatest  magnifi¬ 
cence  in  the  literary  and  physical  world.  In 
the  one  case,  indeed,  we  may  fancy  the  chisel 
which  wrought  each  successive  stone,  but  in  the 
other  we  cannot  trace  the  process  by  which  the 
philosopher  was  raised  from  one  landing-place 
to  another,  till  he  soared  to  his  towering  eleva¬ 
tion  ;  it  seems  as  if  the  work  was  produced  at 
the  bidding  of  a  magician.  But  Newton  has 
left,  as  a  legacy,  the  assurance,  that  he  did 
not  attain  his  elevation  by  a  heaven-born  in- 


150 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


spiration,  out  of  the  reach  of  many,  but  by  dint 
of  a  homely  virtue  within  the  reach  of  all.” 

Reader,  art  thou  a  young  man  struggling 
against  difficulties  for  improvement  and  useful¬ 
ness  ?  Hold  up  then  bravely  thy  head,  when 
the  surge  rolls  over  thee.  Knowest  thou  not 
that  the  energy  which  works  within  thee  is  the 
measure  of  thy  capability ;  that  whatsoever 
thou  wiliest  thou  canst  achieve,  if  not  interdict¬ 
ed  by  the  laws  of  thy  being  ?  Look,  then,  on 
obstacles  with  an  unblinking  eye.  Most  of  the 
good  and  the  great  of  all  ages  have  been  thy 
fellows  in  suffering,  and  thou  mayest  be  theirs 
in  success.  Despond  not;  good  counselors 
will  tell  thee  to  be  humble ;  their  counsel  is 
wise  ;  but  remember  humility  is  not  a  fiction  ; 
it  is  the  right  estimate  of  thyself,  not  deprecia¬ 
tion.  Humility  is  strength.  She  is  brave.  She 
has  lifted  many  a  time  her  meek  eye  serenely 
in  the  flames  of  the  stake.  Be  humble,  then, 
but  be  strong  in  thy  heart.  Thy  soul  is  an  ex¬ 
haustless  energy,  the  wide  world  is  open  for 
thine  action,  and  voices  from  earth  and  heaven 
summon  thee  to  dare  and  to  do. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


151 


JACK  AND  HIS  MASTER. 

“  Bless  them  that  curse  you.” — Christ. 

Two  of  these  sketches  have  already  related 
to  the  influence  of  religion  on  the  negro  charac¬ 
ter.  Many  more  might  be  given.  It  has  been 
no  small  happiness  of  my  ministerial  life  to 
preach  often  to  these  lowly  children  of  Ham.  I 
have  found  among  them  some  of  the  best  disci¬ 
ples  of  my  Master — “  living  epistles.”  What¬ 
ever  may  be  the  defects  of  the  African  mind,  it 
is  not  deficient  in  the  moral  and  social  affections. 
Religion  takes  profound  hold  of  it,  and  enlivens 
it  with  a  spiritual  vivacity  which  I  have  often 
seen  spreading  the  smiles  of  gladness  over  its 
most  abject  depressions. 

Though  constitutionally  timid,  I  have  known 
them  to  endure  “fiery  trials”  for  Christ  with  a 
meek  fortitude  which  has  subdued  the  violence 
of  persecution.  I  have  somewhere  met  with  an 
affecting  instance,  but  cannot  recall  its  source  or 
authority,  and  cannot,  therefore,  vouch  for  its 
truth ;  but  it  is  so  characteristic  and  so  accord¬ 
ant  with  my  knowledge  of  the  negro  heart  when 
influenced  by  the  love  of  Christ,  as  to  give  it 
strong  probability.  It  is  the  case  of  a  slave 
who  became  a  local  preacher,  and  in  one  of  his 
sermons  relates  the  story  as  follows  : — 


152  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

“  When  I  was  a  lad  there  were  no  religious 
people  near  where  I  lived.  But  I  had  a  young 
master  about  my  age,  who  was  going  to  school, 
and  he  was  very  fond  of  me.  At  night  he 
would  come  into  the  kitchen  to  teach  me  the 
lesson  he  had  learned  himself  during  the  day  at 
school.  In  this  way  I  learned  to  read. 

“  When  I  was  well  nigh  grown  up,  we  took  _ 
up  the  New  Testament,  and  agreed  to  read 
it  verse  by  verse.  When  one  would  make  a 
mistake  the  other  was  to  correct  him,  so  that 
we  could  learn  to  read  well. 

‘  In  a  short  time  we  both  felt  that  we  were 
sinners  before  God,  and  we  both  agreed  to  seek 
the  salvation  of  our  souls.  The  Lord  heard  our 
prayer,  and  gave  us  both  a  hope  in  Christ. 
Then  I  began  to  hold  meetings  for  prayer  and 
exhortation  among  the  colored  people. 

“  My  old  master  soon  found  out  what  was 
going  on.  He  was  very  angry,  especially  be¬ 
cause  his  son  had  become  pious.  He  forbid 
my  holding  any  more  meetings,  saying,  that  if 
I  did,  he  would  whip  me  severely  for  it. 

“  From  that  time  I  continued  to  preach  or 
exhort  on  sabbaths  and  sabbath  nights  ;  and  on 
Monday  morning  my  old  master  would  tie  me 
up,  and  cut  my  back  to  pieces  with  a  cowhide, 
so  that  it  had  never  time  to  get  well.  I  was 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


153 


obliged  to  do  my  work  in  a  great  deal  of  pain 
from  day  to  day. 

“  Thus  I  lived  near  a  year  and  a  half.  One 
Monday  morning  my  master,  as  usual,  had 
made  my  fellow-slaves  tie  me  to  a  shade-tree  in 
the  yard,  after  stripping  my  back  naked  to  re¬ 
ceive  the  cowhide.  It  was  a  beautiful  morning 
in  the  summer  time,  and  the  sun  shone  very 
bright.  Everything  around  V>oked  very  plea¬ 
sant.  He  came  up  to  me  with  cool  deliberation, 
took  his  stand,  and  looked  at  me  closely,  but 
the  cowhide  hung  still  at  his  side.  His  con¬ 
science  was  at  work,  and  it  was  a  great  moment 
in  his  life. 

“  ‘  Well  Jack,’  said  he,  ‘your  back  is  cover¬ 
ed  all  over  with  scars  and  sores,  and  I  see  no 
place  to  begin  to  whip.  You  obstinate  wretch, 
how  long  do  you  intend  to  go  on  in  this  way  V 

“  ‘  Why,  master,  just  as  long  as  the  Lord 
will  let  me  live,’  was  my  reply. 

“  ‘  Well,  what  is  your  design  in  it?’ 

“  ‘  Why,  master,  in  the  morning  of  the  resur¬ 
rection,  when  my  poor  body  shall  rise  from  the 
grave,  I  intend  to  show  these  scars  to  my  hea¬ 
venly  Father,  as  so  many  witnesses  of  my 
faithfulness  in  his  cause.’ 

“  He  ordered  them  to  untie  me,  and  sent  me  to 
hoe  corn  in  the  field.  Late  in  the  evening  he 


<  i 


154 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


came  along,  pulling  a  weed  here,  and  a  weed 
there,  till  he  got  to  me,  and  then  told  me  to  sit 
down. 

“  ‘  Jack,’  said  he,  ‘  I  want  you  to  tell  me  the 
truth.  You  know  that  for  a  long  time  your 
back  has  bee^n  sore  from  the  cowhide ;  you 
have  had  to  work  very  hard,  and  are  a  poor 
slave.  Now  tell  me,  are  you  happy  or  not, 
under  such  troubles  as  these  V 

“  ‘Yes,  master,  I  believe  I  am  as  happy  a 
man  as  there  is  on  earth.’ 

“  ‘Well,  Jack,’  said  he,  ‘I  am  not  happy. 
Religion,  you  say,  teaches  you  to  pray  for 
those  that  injure  you.  Now,  will  you  pray  for 
your  old  master,  Jack  V 

“  ‘  Yes,  with  all  my  heart,’  said  I. 

“We  kneeled  down,  and  I  prayed  for  him. 
He  came  again  and  again  to  me.  I  prayed  for 
him  in  the  field,  till  he  found  peace  in  the  blood 
of  the  Lamb.  After  this  we  lived  together  like 
brothers  in  the  same  church.  On  his  death-bed 
he  gave  me  my  liberty,  and  told  me  to  go  on 
preaching  as  long  as  I  lived,  and  meet  him  at 
last  in  heaven. 

“  I  have  seen,”  said  Jack,  “  many  Christians 
whom  I  loved,  but  I  have  never  seen  any  I  loved 
so  well  as  my  old  master.  I  hope  I  shall  meet 
him  in  heaven.” 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


155 


RELIGIOUS  CHEERFULNESS. 

“  Always  rejoicing .” — Paul. 

It  is  one  of  those  commands  which  may  be 
considered  as  more  recommendatory  than  im¬ 
perative,  when  the  apostle  says,  “  Rejoice  ever¬ 
more .”  Yet  no  one  can  doubt  that  not  only  the 
general  spirit,  but  the  express  letter,  of  the  gos¬ 
pel  favors  a  happy  and  even  joyful  temper. 
No  one  who  reads  the  Scriptures  with  a  direct 
reference  to  tins  point  can  be  unconscious  of 
the  fact  that  while  they  may  not  unqualifiedly 
condemn  dejection,  they  nevertheless  discoun¬ 
tenance  it,  as  not  only  foreign  to  religion,  but 
generally  hostile  to  it.  How  infatuated,  then, 
the  impression  of  many,  especially  among  the 
young,  that  spiritual-mindedness  is  essentially 
sombre  ! 

Look  for  a  moment  at  the  spirit  of  true  reli¬ 
gion.  Gloom  and  severity  of  mind  usually  as¬ 
sociate  with  misanthropy  ;  but  the  central  ele¬ 
ment  of  religion  is  love — love  intense,  supreme, 
ever-growing.  Remorse  is  a  painful  source  of 
mental  misery  ;  yet  it  is  chiefly  by  the  absence 
of  hope  that  the  mind  languishes.  What  a  ter¬ 
rible  word  is  despair:  yet  its  most  fearful  import 
is  hopelessness.  But  how  full  of  fruition  is  the 


156 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


future  to  a  Christian  mind — endless,  boundless 
fruition  !  Repose  your  thoughts  a  moment  on  the 
strong  language  of  the  Scriptures :  “  A  good 
hope,”  “  a  lively  hope,”  “  a  blessed  hope,”  “  re¬ 
joicing  in  hope,”  “  abounding  in  hope,”  “  full 
assurance  of  hope.”  Choose  any  other  attribute 
essential  to  the  mental  frame  of  the  Christian, 
and  you  will  find  it  in  contrast  with  gloom ;  as 
much  so  as  the  star  is  with  the  darkness  in 
which  it  shines. 

Assuredly  there  can  be  found  nothing  in  the 
practical  system  of  Christianity  which  is  repug¬ 
nant  to  a  happy  temper.  How  pure  are  its  or¬ 
dinances  ;  how  simple  and  tranquil  its  worship  ; 
how  befitting,  and  coincident  with  our  daily 
cares,  its  duties !  Christianity  is  indeed  a  dis¬ 
cipline  ;  it  imposes  self-denial.  It  has  its  “  bur¬ 
den,”  but  its  burden  is  “  light ;”  it  has  its 
“  yoke,”  but  its  yoke  is  “  easy.” 

What,  then,  are  the  causes  of  the  not  unfre¬ 
quent  depression  met  with  among  Christians  ? 

It  may  be  remarked  in  reply,  first,  that  phy¬ 
sical  causes  often  contribute  to  it.  Let  not  this 
be  deemed  an  unimportant  observation.  We 
are  not  assured  that  it  is  not  the  chief  cause  of 
mental  sufferings  among  those  who  are  genuine 
Christians.  It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  a 
conformity  to  the  moral  laws  of  our  being  does 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


157 


not  supersede  obedience  to  the  physical  and 
organic  laws :  and  that  while  we  reap  the 
rewards  of  obedience  in  the  one  case,  we  may 
be  suffering  the  penalties  of  transgression  in  the 
other.  The  Christian  should  aim  at  perfection 
in  all  respects.  Some  of  our  strongest  tempta¬ 
tions  are  connected  with  physical  circumstances. 
We  should  therefore  include  our  bodily  health 
among  our  moral  duties. 

Again  :  no  doubt  much  of  the  depression  of 
the  Christian  arises  from  the  remains  of  sin. 
Every  drop  of  gall  has  its  bitterness.  The  only 
resource  here  is,  to  seize  St.  Paul’s  remedy, 
“Go  on  to  perfection.'1'  Holiness  is  essential  to 
happiness.  There  never  was  a  truer  and  loftier 
maxim.  Even  what  you  may  consider  small 
sins,  must  ever  interfere,  while  they  are  in¬ 
dulged,  with  your  peace.  Needles  can  pierce 
deeper  than  larger  instruments.  A  secret  sin 
is  often  more  injurious  to  the  soul  than  an  overt 
or  gross  crime.  It  has  a  character  of  conceal¬ 
ment,  of  hypocrisy,  that  makes  it  more  degrad¬ 
ing.  Are  you  habitually  or  occasionally  un¬ 
happy,  Christian  reader  ?  Look  now  delibe¬ 
rately  into  your  heart,  and  see  if  the  cause  is  not 
obvious.  Perhaps  the  greatest  curse  your  hea¬ 
venly  Father  could  inflict  upon  you  would  be 
a  happy  frame  of  mind,  while  you  are  omitting, 


158 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


it  may  be  forgetting,  his  command  that  you  “  be 
perfect,  even  as  he  is  perfect.”  How  amazing 
is  the  undoubted  fact,  that  many  Christians 
shrink  from  this  command,  because  they  fear 
that  the  higher  responsibility  and  minuter  fideli¬ 
ty  of  a  sanctified  state  will  form  a  servitude  in 
which  they  will  be  unhappy  !  Young  Christian, 
bethink  you !  Is  such  a  fancy  found  on  the 
page  of  God’s  word  ?  Is  the  shadowy  twilight 
more  brilliant  than  the  full  glory  of  the  day  ? 
How  superlatively  wretched  heaven  must  be,  if 
you  are  correct !  Christian  perfection  is  indeed 
a  high  state,  and  its  watchfulness  and  fidelity 
are  correspondency  great ;  but  it  is  a  state  of 
extraordinary  grace ,  as  well  as  of  extraordinary 
duty.  It  is  perfect  love  that  “  casts  out  fear'' 
Is  it  not,  then,  on  the  mere  score  of  enjoyment, 
preferable  to  an  inferior  degree  of  piety  ?  Would 
you  be  glad  with  joy?  Would  you  triumph 
over  care  and  anxiety,  and  sin  and  death  ;  and, 
above  all,  over  yourself  and  the  devil  ?  Would 
you  have  the  perfection  of  all  the  happiness  to 
be  enjoyed  in  this  world  ?  Abandon  sin.  Fly 
from  sin.  Abhor  it ;  shudder  at  it.  Look  upon 
its  smallest  stain  as  upon  a  plague  spot. 

Again.  Are  not  we  Christians  wondrously 
thoughtless  ?  Do  we  not  walk  amidst  the 
outstanding,  the  blazing  glories  of  our  blessed 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS 


159 


region,  like  the  blind  man  beneath  the  starry 
grandeur  of  the  firmament,  or  amid  the  efful¬ 
gence  of  the  sun  ?  Does  not  the  want  of  a 
meditative  habit  lead  to  that  vacancy  and  cheer 
lessness  of  mind  which  we  often  feel  ?  When 
we  open  God’s  word  in  an  hour  of  gloom,  it 
ought  to  be  to  us  like  a  sun  outbursting  from 
the  heaven  in  midnight.  How  full  of  clear 
counsel,  and  happy  words,  and  radiant  doctrine, 
and  sweet  assurance,  and  bounding  hope,  is  it ! 
O,  it  is  indeed  the  gospel — good  and  glad  tidings. 
How  every  passage  dilates  and  palpitates  with 
unutterable  mercy  and  love !  “  Glory  in  the 

highest,”  shouted  the  angels  when  they  an¬ 
nounced  it  over  Bethlehem  ;  and  so  should  we 
respond,  whenever  we  look  at  it. 

Young  Christian,  try  to  think  as  well  as  to 
feel.  What  mind,  not  absolutely  in  a  state 
of  fatuity,  can  habitually  meditate  upon  the 
great  topics  of  revealed  religion,  and  be  misera¬ 
ble  and  driveling  ?  Select  any  one  of  its  es¬ 
sential  doctrines,  and  you  have  what  might  be 
the  text  of  an  angel’s  study,  and  that  study  pro¬ 
tracted  through  eternity.  What  a  conception 
is  the  character  of  its  God  !  What  a  topic  the 
atonement !  How  full  of  confidence  and  assu¬ 
rance  the  truth  of  a  special  providence  !  How 
relieving  and  consoling  the  fact  of  justification 


160 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


by  faith  !  How  sublime  the  resurrection  !  and 
how  all-glorious  the  truth  of  “  immortality  and 
eternal  life  !”  Christian,  if  the  gospel  is  true, 
God,  even  God,  loves  you  !  His  Son  died  for 
you  ;  angels  guard  you  ;  devils  quail  before  you  ; 
death  drops  his  sceptre  at  your  approach  ;  the 
grave  fades  away  at  your  feet ;  time  will  grow 
oblivious,  and  worlds  waste  into  nothingness, 
while  you  but  pass  through  your  intellectual 
infancy  !  Lift  up  your  hands,  then,  and  bless 
he  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Disdain  your  trivial  trials,  and  blush  to  think 
that  the  possessor  of  all  these  “  riches  of  glory” 
should  have  ever  hung  his  head  a  moment  in 
despondence. 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


161 


TOO  LATE. 

“  He  that  being  often  reproved,  hardeneth  his  neck,  shall 
suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that  without  remedy .” 

Solomon. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  outpourings  of 
the  Spirit  of  God  I  ever  witnessed  was  at  a 

quarterly  meeting  in  L - .  In  those  days, 

and  especially  in  that  wilderness  region,  quar¬ 
terly  meetings  were  the  high  festivals  of  the 
church.  They  continued  at  least  two  days, 
the  people  assembled  for  many  miles  around, 
and  most  of  the  neighboring  farm-houses  were 
thrown  open  for  the  hospitable  entertainment  of 
the  throng. 

The  services  commenced  early  on  Saturday 
morning,  and  continued  without  intermission, 
except  for  sleep  at  night,  till  ten  o’clock  Sunday 
evening.  The  venerable  father  O.  preached 
the  first  sermon  with  resistless  power.  The 
windows  of  heaven  were  opened,  and  a  blessing 
poured  out,  such  as  we  could  not  contain  :  the 
erowded  house,  and  the  throngs  outside,  about 
the  doors  and  windows,  seemed  spell-bound. 
Sinners  trembled  and  wept,  and  the  people  of 
God  shouted  for  joy.  During  all  that  day  and 
the  next,  prayer  meetings  and  love-feasts  occu¬ 
pied  the  intervals  of  the  sermons,  and  while  one 

11 


162 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.. 


portion  of  the  laboreis  went  to  their  meals  or 
reposed  themselves,  another  supplied  their 
places.  Thirty-four  persons  professed  to  have 
passed  from  death  unto  life  during  the  two  days, 
and  many  others  were  awakened.  My  heart 
kindles  afresh  as  I  think  of  that  blessed  occasion. 
There  is  but  one  melancholy  recollection  con¬ 
nected  with  it,  which  I  record  for  the  warning 
of  others. 

Mr.  G.,  a  pious  and  laborious  local  preacher, 
came  with  his  wife,  son,  and  two  daughters, 
more  than  ten  miles,  to  that  meeting,  with  par¬ 
ticular  reference  to  the  salvation  of  his  son, 
who  had  been  the  subject  of  his  paternal  prayers 
for  more  than  eighteen  years,  and  was  the  only 
one  of  his  family  that  remained  unsaved.  Du¬ 
ring  these  years  he  had  often  been  deeply  con¬ 
victed  of  sin,  but  resistance  had  become  habitual, 
and  the  aged  parent  was  fearful  that  the  habit 
would  become  confirmed  and  fatal.  It  deeply 
affects  me  even  now  to  recall  the  tears  and 
prayers  of  the  good  old  man  in  behalf  of  his 
son  during  the  meeting.  While  others  rejoiced 
at  the  penitent  throngs  that  pressed  around  the 
altar  for  prayers,  he  wept  for  the  child  of  his 
love  who  appeared  not  among  them. 

There  is  sometimes  danger  of  too  much  im¬ 
portunity  in  personal  conversations  on  religion 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  163 

with  our  impenitent  friends.  Such  is  the  na¬ 
tural  perversity  of  the  human  heart,  that  unless 
we  are  cautious  our  appeals  will  only  throw 
them  into  an  attitude  of  self-defense,  a  studied 
resistance  of  religious  impressions — a  habit  most 
hardening  to  the  heart.  The  anxious  father 
was  fully  aware  of  this  danger  :  during  the 
meeting  he  was  affectionately  earnest,  but  not 
too  frequent  in  his  conversations  with  the  young 
man.  He  prayed  incessantly  for  him,  and 
trusted  to  the  influence  of  the  public  means  of 
grace.  One  exercise  after  another  passed,  but 
with  no  visible  effect  on  his  mind.  The  sabbath 
afternoon  had  arrived,  and  scores  were  weeping 
at  the  altar,  when  the  anxious  parent  came  to 
request  me  to  seek  out  his  child  and  faithfully 
converse  with  him. 

I  found  him,  urged  him  to  immediate  repent¬ 
ance,  and  recommended  him  to  place  himself 
among  the  mourning  group  at  the  altar. 

“  The  Scriptures  do  not  require  me  to  go  to 
the  altar,”  he  answered,  “  and  can  I  not  receive 
religion  elsewhere  as  well  as  there  ?” 

“Yes,”  I  replied,  “the  Lord  can  save  you 
where  you  now  stand,  or  anywhere  else,  if 
you  earnestly  seek  him,  but  what  place  can 
be  more  appropriate  for  those  who  earnestly 
seek  him  than  the  altar  of  his  sanctuary  ?  We 


164  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

baptize  our  children  there ;  there  we  receive 
candidates  into  his  church,  and  perform  the 
solemnities  of  marriage,  and  the  obsequies  of 
the  dead ;  it  is  a  holy  place,  and  why  is  it  not 
appropriate  that  our  first  religious  vows  should 
be  taken  there  ?  There  is,  indeed,  no  special 
virtue  in  the  altar,  but  by  going  to  it  you  will 
place  yourself  in  a  position  to  receive  more  di¬ 
rectly  the  prayers  and  counsels  of  God’s  people. 
You  will  also  thereby  own  yourself  on  the  Lord’s 
side,  and  break  at  once  that  dangerous  diffidence 
which  has  ruined  thousands.  I  do  not  say  that 
you  cannot  obtain  religion  without  going  to  the 
altar,  but  I  do  say  that  you  will  never  obtain  it 
until  you  overcome  those  feelings  which  pre¬ 
vent  your  going  :  you  can  never  obtain  it  till  you 
are  sufficiently  humbled  to  receive  it  anywhere, 
or  at  any  sacrifice.” 

I  spent  half  an  hour  in  reasoning  with  him. 
He  treated  me  with  great  respect,  acknowledg¬ 
ed  his  necessity  of  religion,  but  suggested  a 
thousand  difficulties.  I  left  him  with  the  pain¬ 
ful  conviction  that,  amidst  all  the  wonderful  in¬ 
fluences  of  the  occasion,  he  had  succeeded  in 
keeping  his  conscience  asleep. 

The  meeting  closed  on  Sunday  night.  On 
Monday  morning,  as  I  passed  to  my  next  ap¬ 
pointment,  I  found  the  road  enlivened  with  the 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  165 

horses  and  vehicles  of  the  returning  multitude. 
After  riding  four  miles,  I  perceived  a  throng 
about  a  farm-house  before  me.  I  rode  rapidly 
to  it,  and  learned  that  a  young  man  had  been 
thrown  from  his  horse  and  dangerously  injured. 
I  passed  through  the  crowd  to  the  chamber 
where  they  had  placed  the  sufferer,  and  found 
the  young  man  whom  I  had  warned  so  emphati¬ 
cally  the  day  before.  He  was  shockingly  in¬ 
jured,  and  as  I  entered  the  room  a  thrill  of  dismay 
seemed  to  pass  over  him.  A  physician  soon 
arrived  and  pronounced  the  case  hopeless,  and 
declared  that  he  could  not  survive  two  hours. 
Never  shall  I  forget  the  agonized  countenance 
ot  the  wretched  youth  when  he  learned  his  fate. 

“  Must  I  die  V’  he  exclaimed :  “  Is  there  no 
hope  ?  O  I  cannot  die  !  I  cannot  die  !”  I  en¬ 
deavored  to  direct  him  to  the  cross,  and  re¬ 
minded  him  of  the  crucified  thief. 

“Alas!”  he  replied,  “  he  never  sinned  against 
such  light  as  I  have  abused.  What  shall  I  do  ? 
Pray  for  me,  O  pray  for  me !” 

We  knelt  down  about  the  chamber,  but  his 
agonizing  groans  struck  all  with  horror  and  con¬ 
fusion.  I  rose,  and  endeavored  again  to  direct 
him  to  the  Lamb  of  God  who  taketh  away  the 
sins  of  the  world. 

“  It  is  too  late  !”  he  exclaimed,  “  O  what 


166 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


would  I  not  give  if  I  had  heeded  your  warning 
yesterday,  but  it  is  now  too  late  ;  I  am  lost !  I 
am  lost !” 

His  parents  and  sisters  soon  arrived  ;  but  the 
scene  which  followed  I  will  not  and  cannot 
describe.  The  groans  of  the  poor  sufferer 
ceased  only  with  his  life,  which  occurred  during 
the  morning.  He  seemed  stunned  by  the  sudden 
and  unexpected  summons,  and  unable  to  com¬ 
mand  his  thoughts  sufficiently  to  pray.  Who 
can  describe  the  feelings  of  that  poor  dying 
youth !  Who  can  imagine  them !  His  body 
in  agony,  his  life  reduced  to  a  few  hours,  and 
no  preparation  for  eternity ! 

Reader !  be  ye  ready  for  in  such  an  hour  as 
ye  think  not  the  summons  may  come  ! 

“  Reflect,  thou  hast  a  soul  to  save, 

Thy  sins,  how  high  they  mount ! 

What  are  thy  hopes  beyond  the  grave  ? 

How  stands  that  dark  account  ? 

“Death  enters,  and  there’s  no  defense; 

His  time  there’s  none  can  tell : 

He’ll  in  a  moment  call  thee  hence, 

To  heaven  or  down  to  hell !” 


END  OF  VOL.  I 


*-  - 


« 

> 

0 


•  . 

*  n- 


SKETCHES  &  INCIDENTS 


5 


OR, 


4  BUDGET  FROM  THE  SADDLE-BAGS 

OF  A 


SUPERANNUATED  ITINERANT. 


VOLUME  II. 


GEORGE  PECK,  EDITOR. 


Cincinnati: 

PUBLISHED  BY  SWORMSTEDT  &  POE, 

FOR  THE  METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH,  AT  THE  WESTERN  BOOK 
CONCERN,  CORNER  OF  MAIN  AND  EIGHTH  STREETS. 


R.  P.  THOMPSON,  PRINTER. 

1855. 


* 


♦  Wiv  v/  , 

x  *  ?><i  f  *,  -  .  i 

- 


•  •  #  .4  .  .•  i  "i  f  (  1  ;  r  "  /  ‘  ■*  . 

'I  ■  ‘  *  -*  *  -  10  ‘  * 

Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1845,  by 
G  Lane  &  C.  B.  Tippett,  in  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District 
Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New-York. 


% 


PREFACE. 


In  preparing  these  pages  the  writer  has 
contemplated  two  designs :  first,  the  pre¬ 
servation  of  some  o#  the  more  interesting 
of  those  denominational  incidents  which 
are  current  in  our  church,  and  which 
strikingly  illustrate  the  providence  of 
God ;  and  secondly,  the  production  of  a 
work  adapted  to  the  advanced  youth  of 
the  church — a  department  of  our  denomi¬ 
national  literature  hitherto  almost  entirely 
vacant.  During  some  years  he  has  had 
an  eye  on  these  objects ;  and,  as  in  hours 
of  leisure  or  indisposition,  he  penned  one 
after  another  of  these  fragments,  they  were 
placed  in  his  old  saddle-bags  :  one  budget 
has  already  been  taken  thence  and  given 
to  the  public.  Its  reception  has  encou¬ 
raged  the  appearance  of  another. 

2 


4 


PREFACE. 


Some  of  these  articles  present  coinci¬ 
dences  and  denouements  so  remarkable  as 
to  probably  excite  suspicion  of  their  ve¬ 
racity.  The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  that 
such  singular  incidents  do  occasionally 
occur  in  the  current  of  common -place 
events — that  the  present  examples  are  not 
given  as  specimens  oi^average  events,  but 
are  professedly  sought  out  as  anomalous. 
Though  the  writer  has  discreetly  (as  he 
thinks)  used  his  imagination,  in  a  few  in¬ 
stances,  for  the  illustration  of  important 
subjects,  yet  most  of  the  extraordinary 
cases  referred  to,  so  far  as  they  are  related 
on  his  own  authority,  he  knows  to  be 
substantial  facts ;  and  those  related  on  the 
authority  of  others  are  well  authenticated. 


CONTENTS. 

% 


Page 

The  Love-feast . _ . . .  7 

Literary  and  Moral  Aspects  of  England  at  the  Birth 

of  Methodism . 27 

Bishop  Asbury  and  Black  Punch .  43 

A  Theological  Sketch . 52 

Mother  Suma  and  the  Wealthy  Convert .  65 

Doctrinal  Character  of  Methodism .  74 

The  Praying  Mother .  83 

The  Jews . . .  90 

An  Incident  with  a  Lesson .  96 

Special  Character  of  Methodism .  101 

Visit  to  the  Tomb  of  Whitefield .  119 

Christian  Use  of  Money . 130 

Bishop  Roberts .  143 

Heretical  Tendencies  of  Methodism  and  Calvinism  156 

Wesleyan  Anecdotes .  161 

A  Meditative  Habit.* . 171 

The  Mariner’s  Preacher .  176 

The  Sabbath  School . .  183 


2 


* 


y 


*■  \ 


v 


4 


'  t 
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A 


SKETCHED  AND  INCIDENTS. 


THE  LOVE-FEAST. 

11  Then  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to 
another — Malachi. 

The  old  quarterly  conferences  and  love- 
feasts  !  what  was  more  characteristic  of  prac¬ 
tical  Methodism  than  they  ?  The  horses  and 
carriages,  and  groups  of  men,  women,  and  chil¬ 
dren  plodding  the  highways  on  foot,  for  twenty 
miles,  or  more,  as  on  a  holy  pilgrimage  ;  the 
assemblage  of  preachers,  traveling  and  local, 
from  all  the  neighboring  appointments  ;  the  two 
days  of  preaching  and  exhorting,  praying  and 
praising ;  the  powerful  convictions,  and  more 
powerful  conversions  ;  and  especially  the  Sun¬ 
day  morning  love-feast,  with  its  stirring  testi¬ 
monies  and  kindling  songs  ;  its  tears  and  shout¬ 
ings — how  precious  their  reminiscences  !  Alas, 
for  the  changes  which  are  coming  over  us ! 

An  accurate  description  of  one  of  these  occa¬ 
sions  would  be  among  the  best  pictures  of  pri¬ 
mitive  Methodism.  Shalt  I  attempt  to  draw, 

2 


8  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

not  to  paint,  one  which  took  place,  not  in  the 
earliest  times,  yet  at  a  period  when  the  first 
generation  of  Methodists,  ripe  in  their  Christian 
experience,  still  lingered  among  us  ? 

It  was  held  in  - ,  a  rural  neighborhood. 

The  locality  was  favorable  for  the  assemblage 
of  very  various  characters  ;  and  a  more  diversi¬ 
fied  company  I  have  seldom  met  than  were 
brought  together  at  that  quarterly  love-feast. 

It  was  a  bright  June  morning ;  the  adjacent 
fields  were  fragrant  with  the  fresh  hay ;  the 
orchards  were  vocal  with  the  melody  of  birds  ; 
long  lines  of  horses  and  Jersey  wagons,  inter¬ 
spersed  with  an  occasional  chaise,  or  carriage, 
of  higher  pretension,  ranged  along  either  side 
of  the  road,  while  saddle  horses  crowded  the 
shady  retreat  of  a  neighboring  forest.  The 
church  was  an  old  frame  structure,  unpainted 
inside  or  out,  but  thoroughly  neat  and  clean, 
and  looking,  on  that  warm  day,  with  all  its 
sashes  out,  most  comfortably  cool  and  airy. 
No  dull  blinds  darkened  the  windows,  and 
threw,  as  in  city  churches,  a  sepulchral  gloom 
over  the  worshipers ;  but  long,  snow-white, 
cotton  curtains  flapped  in  the  breezy  air,  as  if 
playfully  willing  to  admit  an  occasional  gleam 
of  sunlight,  provided  it  would  treat  respect¬ 
fully  the  eyes  of  the  multitude.  The  pulpit  (». 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


9 


high,  narrow  box,  in  the  old  style)  and  the  altar 
were  crowded  with  preachers,  itinerant  and 
local.  The  front  gallery  was  filled  with  blacks, 
mostly  slaves. 

When  I  looked  around  at  the  large  throng, 
fanned  by  the  soft  breezes,  I  expected  soon  to 
see  many  nodding,  and  feared  a  languid  meet¬ 
ing  ;  but,  as  they  were  singing,  to  the  tune  of 
China,  the  introductory  hymn,  a  visible  emo¬ 
tion  spread  through  the  assembly.  Some  tears 
flowed  during  the  second  verse, — 

“  Still  let  us  own  our  common  Lord, 

And  bear  his  easy  yoke ; 

A  band  of  love,  a  threefold  cord, 

Which  never  can  be  broke.” 

The  feeling  deepened  as  the  long  but  beau¬ 
tiful  hymn  advanced ;  at  last,  as  they  closed 
the  eighth  stanza, — 

“  With  ease  our  souls  through  death  shall  glide 
Into  their  paradise ; 

And  thence,  on  wings  of  angels,  ride 
Triumphant  through  the  skies,” — 

old  brother  B.,  who,  by  the  way,  was  a  famous 
shouter,  could  control  himself  no  longer,  but 
exclaimed,  in  a  tone  fraught  with  his  whole 
soul,  “Amen!  glory  be  to  God!”  It  thrilled 

the  assembly,  and  sobs  and  ejaculations  were 

2 


10 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


heard  over  the  whole  congregation.  A  powerful 
prayer,  by  the  presiding  elder,  followed,  min¬ 
gled  with  the  fervent  importunities  of  the  con¬ 
gregation,  during  which  my  own  soul  was  so 
subdued  that  I  wept  like  a  child,  and  felt  as  if 
[  were  bowing  right  under  a  cloud  of  the  “  ex¬ 
cellent  glory.”  Ah  !  fellow-Christian,  have  you 
never  felt  thus  borne,  by  the  tide  of  prevailing 
supplication,  quite  up  to  the  gate  of  heaven? 
Have  you  never  felt  as  if  you  were  kneeling, 
with  bowed  head,  on  the  very  door-step  of  the 
celestial  temple,  wetting  it  with  tears,  amid 
the  beatific  vision,  like  the  penitent,  bowing  at 
the  portal  of  the  ancient  church,  but  forbidden 
to  enter? 

A  stirring  hymn  followed  : — 

“  Salvation !  O  the  joyful  sound ! 

What  pleasure  to  our  ears 1 
A  sovereign  balm  for  every  wound, 

A  cordial  for  our  fears 

# 

and  then  commenced  the  speaking.  The  ven¬ 
erable  presiding  elder,  a  tall,  erect  figure,  with 
white  hair  combed  behind  his  ears,  and  coun¬ 
tenance  weather-worn,  but  full  of  sensibility, 
after  a  few  general  remarks,  referred,  with 
emotions  that  often  interrupted  his  utterance, 

to  his  own  long  experience.  “  I  have  been 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


11 


traveling  heavenward,  blessed  be  God,  nearly 
thirty  years,  and  the  road  grows  brighter  as  I 
approach  the  light  of  the  better  world.  More 
than  twenty-nine  years  ago,  brother  Freeborn 
Garrettson,  who  used  to  sound  the  trumpet 
through  all  these  regions,  came  into  the  neigh¬ 
borhood  of  my  father’s  plantation.  One  of  my 
father’s  black  servants,  old  Marcus,  now  in  hea¬ 
ven,  I  have  no  doubt,  [a  loud  shout  from  brother 
B .,]  had  wandered  away  some  miles  to  the 
preaching  and  been  soundly  converted  to  God. 
The  change  was  so  remarkable  that  my  good 
old  father,  who  was  trying  to  get  to  heaven  as 
well  as  he  knew  how,  invited  brother  Garrettson 
to  preach  in  our  vicinity.  He  arrived  one  day 
at  noon,  and  Marcus  and  I  spent  all  the  after¬ 
noon  in  riding  among  the  plantations,  inviting 
the  neighbors  to  hear  him.  In  the  evening  he 
preached  in  our  large  kitchen.  It  was  filled 
with  attentive  hearers,  white  and  black.  Dur¬ 
ing  the  first  prayer,  when  the  preacher  prayed 
for  the  family,  and  especially  for  the  children, 
I  felt  a  strange  influence  come  into  my  soul. 
Old  Marcus,  who  knelt  near  me,  responded 
fervently  to  the  prayer.  He  was  weeping,  and 
I  heard  him  repeatedly  breathe  my  name  in  his 
supplications.  I  felt  then  as  I  never  had  be¬ 
fore  The  preacher  took  his  text,  and  preached 

2 


12 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


with  power  from  on  high ;  truth  after  truth 
flashed  on  my  spirit  like  lightnings  from  hea¬ 
ven  ;  the  people  wept  all  around  me  ;  but  I 
could  not ;  yet  I  trembled  from  head  to  foot.  I 
seized  the  back  of  Marcus’s  seat  to  steady  my¬ 
self.  I  heard  him  breathe,  *  Lord,  save  young 
massa.’  My  knees  began  to  smite  the  one 
against  the  other.  I  hastened  out  of  the  door 
into  the  yard,  and  flew  to  a  hay-stack,  where  I 
fell  to  the  earth,  crying  for  mercy.  Soon  one 
was  praying  by  my  side.  It  was  old  Marcus. 
He  had  seen  my  agitation,  and  followed  me  to 
the  place.  The  scene  that  ensued  I  cannot 
describe.  The  poor  negro  prayed  with  me 
half  the  night,  when  the  light  broke  from  hea¬ 
ven  upon  my  trembling  soul,  and  then  we  wept 
together  for  joy.  My  old  father  soon  after  found 
the  peace  he  had  long  been  seeking,  and  my 
dear  old  mother  followed  in  his  steps.  Father, 
mother,  and  black  Marcus,  have  all  gone  home 
in  triumph,  and  I  feel  this  morning  that  I  am 
not  far  from  the  ‘  heavenly  Jerusalem,’  ‘  the 
city  of  the  living  God.’  I  am  old  and  gray  ;  1 
can  only  totter  on  the  way;  my  old  fellow- 
laborers  are  mostly  gone.  A  few,  as  Cooper, 
Garrettson,  Ware,  Dunwody,  and  others,  linger 
still ;  but  a  new  generation  has  come  upon  the 

stage  ;  we  can  but  now  and  then  find  one  that 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS 


13 


belonged  to  our  day.  We  are  become  not  only 
as  ‘pilgrims,’  but  as  *  strangers’  among  you,  in 
the  flesh,  though  not  in  the  spirit.  But  now  we 
‘  desire  a  better  country.’  ”  The  old  man’s  ut¬ 
terance  was  choked  by  his  emotions,  and  he  sat 
down  as  they  sung,  with  manifest  feeling,  the 
beautiful  stanza, — 

“  We  are  traveling  home  to  God, 

In  the  way  our  fathers  trod ; 

They  are  happy  now,  and  we 
Soon  their  happiness  shall  see.” 

Some  eight  or  ten  followed  in  rapid  succes¬ 
sion,  all  bearing  good,  though  not  remarkable, 
testimonies.  I  noticed,  from  the  time  the  pre¬ 
siding  elder  had  mentioned  the  name  of  Marcus, 
a  deep  sensation  among  the  blacks  who  crowd¬ 
ed  the  gallery.  At  this  stage  of  the  meeting- 
one  of  them,  an  old,  bald-headed,  labor-worn 
man,  unable  apparently  to  restrain  his  feelings 
longer,  rose,  and  addressing  himself  to  the  pre¬ 
siding  elder,  said,  as  the  big  tears  ran  freely, 
“  Ah  !  massa,  me  neber  forget  old  Marcus,  bless 
de  Lord !  He  lead  me  to  massa  Jesus.  He 
come  ober  one  night  to  our  quarters  and  preach¬ 
ed,  and  de  Lord  send  down  someting  dat  gat 
into  me  and  shook  me  like  an  old  torn  hand¬ 
kerchief  in  de  gale,  bless  de  Lord !  [Loud 
amens.]  Me  cried  out  for  mercy,  and  Marcus 

2 


14 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


cried  wid  me,  and  de  Lord  heard  us,  glory  to 
his  name  !  and  when  de  morning  come  me  felt, 
bless  de  Lord!  like  flying  right  up  into  de  sun. 
De  Lord  has  been  berry  good  to  me  since  den ; 
he  feed  me  ebery  day  wid  de  manna  from  hea¬ 
ven,  bless  his  name  !  My  poor  Nancy  he  save 
too  ;  she  suffered  much  tree  weeks  in  dreadful 
pain  ;  but  she  did’nt  complain  a  word,  but  said 
de  Lord  was  doing  all  right.  She  went  up  wid 
her  hand  on  de  head  of  little  Neddy,  blessing 
de  child.  Ah !  dat  night  my  heart  like  to  break  ! 
but  de  quarters  seemed  full  of  light ;  none  of  us 
slept,  but  prayed  all  night. 

“  And  poor  Neddy  has  gone  up  since  den  too, 
praising  de  Lord  all  de  way  till  he  could’nt  be 
heard,  bless  de  Lord  !  And  now  me  waiting, 
brodders,  to  go  ;  me  old  and  weary,  but  journey¬ 
ing  onward ;  O  bless  de  Lord !  me  feel  dis 
morning  like  going  right  up.” 

Loud  exclamations  and  many  tears  followed, 
especially  among  the  blacks.  These  poor  crea¬ 
tures  included  many  of  the  best  Christians  I 
have  ever  known,  though  no  little  extravagance 
sometimes  attended  their  devotions  ;  and  among 
them  also  were  found  instances  of  deception 
and  hypocrisy.  Imbecility,  moral  as  well  as 
mental,  is  almost  inseparable  from  their  servile 
condition,  and  renders  their  religion  often  very 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  15 

doubtful.  An  example  occurred  at  this  time. 
One  of  the  slaves  spoke  most  rapturously.  He 
belonged  to  a  local  preacher,  who  was  present, 
and  who  had  lately  missed  many  of  his  poultry. 
His  master  had  reason  to  suspect  that  he  had 
taken  them  at  night  and  cooked  them  in  his 
quarters.  After  the  love-feast  I  heard  the  mas¬ 
ter  speaking  to  the  servant,  who  seemed  yet 
under  the  excitement  of  the  meeting: — “  Well, 
Sammy,  what  about  the  lost  chickens,  eh  ?  Do 
you  know  anything  about  them,  Sammy  ?” 

“  O  no,  massa,  bless  de  Lord  !  me  be  honest ; 
me  know  nothing  about  de  chickens,  massa.” 

As  I  was  passing  to  a  neighboring  house, 
Sammy  and  his  wife  were  walking  before  me. 
I  overheard  him  saying,  “  But  Molly,  ’spose 
massa  had  axed  me  about  de  ducks  instead  of 
de  chickens  ?  den  me  been  in  a  bad  fix,  eh, 
Molly  ?  Jim  took  de  chickens,  but  me  only  de 
ducks.”  I  state  it  as  an  example  of  ingenious 
evasion,  combined  with  weakness  of  moral  per¬ 
ception — a  characteristic  not  uncommon  among 
slaves,  and  calling  for  careful  instruction  on  the 
part  of  those  who  have  the  Christian  charge  of 
them. 

But  there  are  among  them  gems  of  Christian 
character,  though  set  in  ebony.  Such  a  one 

arose  after  the  last  described.  She  was  not 

2 


16  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

old,  yet  broken  down  with  sorrows,  and  appa¬ 
rently  so  feeble  with  pulmonary  consumption 
as  to  be  hardly  able  to  speak  loud  enough  to  be 
heard  through  the  house.  A  breathless  silence 
was  maintained  while  she  spoke,  as  if  all  sym¬ 
pathized  with  her  feebleness  and  grief.  Thi> 
poor  creature  had  formerly  belonged  to  a  hard¬ 
hearted  planter,  who  had  sold  her  husband  and 
only  child — the  former  was  at  this  time  in  Lou¬ 
isiana,  the  latter  in  Alabama.  The  separation 
had  broken  her  heart,  and  she  was  hastening  to 
the  grave  under  the  pressure  of  insupportable 
wo.  She  had  lately  been  converted.  This 
change,  though  it  could  not  arrest  her  fate, 
spread  the  brightness  of  hope  over  it.  With  a 
manner  that  betokened  superior  intelligence  for 
her  lot,  and  in  tones  of  melting  pathos,  she  said, 
“  My  heart-strings  are  broken,  but  God  comforts 
me  ;  all  that  is  dearest  to  me  on  earth  has  been 
torn  from  me,  but  my  Saviour  remains.  I  shall 
be  here  but  a  short  time,  but  it  is  enough,  since 
I  have  learned  that  this  world  is  only  a  vale  of 
tears,  and  that  there  is  another  ‘  where  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling.’  O  !  is  there  one 
here  whose  lot  is  one  of  grief  and  tears  ?  let  a 
fellow-sufferer  tell  such  that  the  Lord  is  a  very 
present  help  in  trouble.  Though  I  stand  here 
ruined  in  health  and  in  my  hopes  of  this  life, 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  17 

yet  is  my  soul  steadfast  in  the  Lord,  and  quiet 
in  the  hope  of  the  relief  which  he  will  soon 
send  me.” 

The  assembly,  which  felt  deeply  for  the  suf¬ 
ferer,  and,  in  common  with  most  Christian  plant¬ 
ers,  detested  the  slave-trade,  then  sung, — 

“  O  what  are  all  my  sufferings  here, 

If,  Lord,  thou  count  me  meet 
With  that  enraptured  host  t’  appear, 

And  worship  at  thy  feet ! 

“  Give  joy  or  grief,  give  ease  or  pain, 

Take  life  or  friends  away, 

But  let  me  find  them  all  again 
In  that  eternal  day !” 

The  example  of  this  devoted  slave  opened 
the  way  for  the  white  females.  Among  many 
that  spoke,  one  said,  “  I  thank  God  for  a  pray¬ 
ing  mother.  I  am  one  of  four  daughters  who 
from  infancy  had  the  precious  blessing  of  a 
mother’s  daily  supplications.  Years  passed 
away  without  any  visible  change  in  any  of  ns  ; 
but  God  only  knows  what  deep  exercises  of 
mind  I  had  during  those  years  of  apparent  care¬ 
lessness.  My  dear  mother  was  once  suddenly 
and  dangerously  seized  with  illness.  Near  the 
midhour  of  the  night  we  were  called  to  witness 
her  departure,  and  receive  her  last  blessing.  O 
.hat  dreary,  vet  blessed  night,  its  remembrance 
Vol.  II.— 2 


18  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

can  never  fade !  My  dear  parent  was  in  ago¬ 
nizing  pain,  yet  she  could  only  think  and  pray 
for  her  children.  Brother  P.,  our  beloved 
preacher,  had  arrived,  and  sat  by  her  bedside 
‘  Is  the  prospect  of  heaven  bright,  sister  V  he 
asked.  ‘  O  yes,’  she  responded,  ‘  heaven  is 
bright,  but  earth  is  shaded  in  gloom  to  me. 
My  poor  children,  must  I  leave  them  without 
God  and  without  hope  in  the  world  !  It  seems 
impossible  for  me  to  die  till  I  have  witnessed 
their  salvation,  and  can  carry  with  me  to  the 
grave  the  hope  of  meeting  them  in  heaven.’ 

“  At  these  words,  one  of  my  sisters,  who  had 
been  weeping  profusely,  threw  herself  at  the 
bedside,  exclaiming,  ‘  Mother,  if  God  will  hear 
prayer,  you  shall  not  die  without  the  hope  of 
meeting  me  again.’  I  could  sustain  myself  no 
longer,  but  fell  on  my  knees  at  her  side,  and  in 
a  moment  we  were  all  four  prostrate  in  prayer 
and  tears.  Brother  P.  knelt  with  us,  and  when 
morning  dawned  we  were  all  humbly  hoping 
in  our  Redeemer.  My  dear  mother  was  so 
relieved  by  the  change,  that  she  recovered,  and 
for  years  led  us  as  Christiana,  in  Bunyan’s 
Progress,  did  her  children,  in  the  pathway  to 
heaven.  She  has  since  entered  into  her  rest, 
and  her  daughters  are  this  morning  still  on  the 

way  to  meet  her.” 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  19 

Brother  B.  here  shouted  aloud,  accompanied 
by  many  others.  When  the  emotion  had  sub¬ 
sided  brother  C.,  a  traveling  preacher,  arose. 
“  Brethren  and  sisters,”  said  he,  “  many  of  you 
speak  of  the  prayers  of  parents ;  I  had  no  such 
blessing  before  my  conversion,  but  I  thank  God 
I  hat  I  can  trust  I  have  a  parent  in  heaven,  in 
answer  to  my  own  unworthy  prayers.  When 
quite  young,  I  wandered  away  from  my  home 
in  New-Jersey,  to  seek  adventures  in  Ohio,  then 
a  howling  wilderness.  There,  blessed  be  God, 
I  found  that  Methodist  itinerants  had  gone  be¬ 
fore  me.  They  used  to  travel  on  the  trail  of 
the  Indians,  ford  the  streams,  sleep  under  the 
trees  with  their  saddle-bags  for  pillows,  and 
preach  day  and  night.  I  went  to  hear  them 
once,  and,  though  a  desperate  sinner,  the  word 
reached  my  heart.  I  cried  out  for  mercy. 
Several  weeks  did  I  weep  before  the  Lord,  till 
at  last  I  passed  from  death  unto  life,  old  things 
passed  away,  and  behold  all  things  became 
new. 

“  My  thoughts  turned  immediately  to  my  old 
father  in  New-Jersey.  I  prayed  for  him  inces¬ 
santly  ;  but  this  could  not  satisfy  me.  I  felt 
that  I  must  go  to  him,  tell  him  what  the  Lord 
had  done  for  me,  and  exhort  him  to  flee  from 

the  wrath  to  come.  I  started  for  New-Jersey, 

2 


20 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


traveling  on  foot,  and  in  such  baggage-wagons 
as  I  found  on  the  way.  When  I  reached  home 
my  father  was  glad  to  see  me,  but  laughed  at 
my  errand.  He  was  skeptical,  and  thought  me 
crazy.  1  stayed  some  time  with  him,  but  thought 
he  heeded  not  my  warnings.  I  perceived  that 
he  even  began  to  grow  vexed  with  my  impor¬ 
tunity.  The  devil  tempted  me  to  believe  that  I 
had  been  deluded  by  my  feelings  into  fanatical 
folly.  But  I  continued  my  efforts.  I  had  fixed 
upon  a  time  for  my  return  to  Ohio.  The  last 
day  came,  and  yet  my  aged  father  remained 
unaffected.  I  determined  to  spend  the  last 
night  in  prayer  for  him  in  the  barn.  I  felt  that 
I  would  test  God’s  promises  to  answer  prayer 
that  night.  In  an  agony  of  spirit  I  went  to  the 
barn,  and  prayed  without  ceasing  till  after  mid¬ 
night.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  cry  outside.  I  lis¬ 
tened  ;  it  was  the  voice  of  my  sister:  ‘John,’ 
said  she,  ‘  for  mercy’s  sake,  come  to  the  house  ; 
father  is  crazy !’ 

“  I  ran  to  the  house,  flew  up  to  my  father’s 
chamber,  and  found  the  old  man  on  his  knees, 
praying  aloud  and  weeping  like  a  child.  Glory 
to  God — my  prayers  had  been  heard !  I  de¬ 
layed  a  day  longer,  and  left  my  aged  father  on 
the  way  to  heaven.  He  has  entered  into  it 
since  in  triumph,  and  I  expect  soon  to  meet  him 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  21 

there.  The  Lord  has  been  good  to  me  and 
mine  ;  blessed  be  his  holy  name.  Ye  parents 
and  children  who  are  praying  for  each  other, 
be  not  discouraged,  for  the  promises  of  God  are, 
in  Christ  Jesus,  yea  and  amen.” 

A  sailor  here  arose.  “  My  friends,”  said  he, 
1 1  have  been  tossed  about  the  world  several 
years,  but  could  never  forget  my  home  here. 
When  a  boy,  the  Methodist  preachers  used  to 
stay  at  my  father’s  house.  I  remember  many 
of  them  now,  and  shall  always.  When  they 
rode  up  to  the  gate,  I  used  to  run  out  to  take 
their  horses  to  the  stable  ;  and  then  they  would 
put  their  hands  on  my  head  and  say,  ‘  God  bless 
you,  Joseph  ;  be  a  good  boy,  and  pray  the  Lord 
to  give  you  a  new  heart.’  And  how  they  would 
pray  for  me  at  family  prayers  !  Nobody,  per¬ 
haps,  thought  that  these  things  would  get  much 
hold  upon  me  ;  but,  brothers,  they  were  ringing 
in  my  ears  all  over  the  world,  by  day  and  by 
night,  in  calm  and  in  storm.  For  years  I  re¬ 
sisted  them,  and  became  so  dissipated  that  my 
poor  mother  died  with  no  prospect  of  ever  seeing 
me  in  heaven.  I  ran  away  and  went  to  sea ; 
and  all  thought  there  was  little  or  no  hope  for 
me.  But,  though  a  terrible  sinner,  God  never 
gave  me  up ;  those  old  Methodist,  preachers* 

faces  and  warnings  followed  me  all  over  the 

2 


22 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


Atlantic,  around  Cape  Horn,  and  in  the  Southern 
Ocean,  giving  me  no  rest,  till  one  night  I  wan¬ 
dered  into  a  prayer  meeting,  in  a  southern  port, 
and  began  with  tears  and  groans  to  call  upon 
the  Lord  for  mercy.  Glory  to  his  name,  he 
received  the  prodigal,  and  I  am  come  home  here 
to  see  some  old  faces,  and  tell  you  what  the  Lord 
has  done  for  me.  Brethren,  I  am  on  board  the 
heaven-bound  ship,  and  am  on  the  look-out  for 
the  harbor.  I  am  very  happy  this  morning, 
bless  the  Lord.” 

Here  was  sung, — 

“There  all  the  ship’s  company  meet, 

Who  sail’d  with  the  Saviour  beneath ; 

With  shouting  each  other  they  greet, 

And  triumph  o’er  sorrow  and  death : 

“  The  voyage  of  life’s  at  an  end, 

The  mortal  affliction  is  past ; 

The  age  that  in  heaven  we  spend, 

For  ever  and  ever  shall  last.” 

The  singing  started  brother  B.  He  rose  with 
flowing  tears,  and  exclaiming,  “  Glory  be  to 
God !  I  feel  that  I  do  not  deserve  to  wash  your 
feet ;  but  I  love  your  Redeemer,  and  he  owns 
me  this  morning  for  his  child,  glory  be  to  his 
name  !  He  blessed  me  this  morning,  before 

daylight,  while  praying  about  this  meeting,  and 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  23 

now  my  cup  runs  over.  Hallelujah  !”  Brother 
B.  was  a  man  of  few  words,  and  no  one  did  he 
use  oftener  than  the  term  glory.  As  he  said 
little,  I  must  speak  for  him.  Doubtless  there 
was  a  trait  of  weakness  in  his  nature  ;  but  such 
was  the  sincerity  and  purity  of  his  character 
that  the  most  fastidious  admired  him.  He  was 
privileged  to  shout,  for  it  evidently  came  from 
his  heart.  I  never  knew  a  more  devoted  man. 
For  twenty  years  I  do  not  believe  the  sun  found 
him  in  bed  once  :  he  anticipated  the  day  in 
prayer  and  praise.  At  his  family  altar,  espe¬ 
cially  in  the  evening,  it  was  his  custom,  besides 
reading,  singing,  and  prayer,  to  stand  at  his 
chair  and  give  the  family  a  warm  exhortation ; 
and  the  day  was  ended  with  his  usual  shouts 
of  praise.  Brother  B.,  after  shouting  through 
twenty  years,  showed  the  ruling  passion  strong 
in  death.  He  died  shouting,  enjoying  what 
the  dying  Fletcher  prayed  for, — “  a  gust  of 
praise.” 

I  saw  him  three  times  in  imminent  danger, 
but  he  always  at  such  times  shouted.  Once, 
when  in  a  stage,  the  horses  ran  away  on  the 
verge  of  a  dangerous  precipice,  he  shouted  for 
half  a  mile.  “  Glory  to  God,  brother,”  said  he, 
“  we  can  go  to  heaven  thus  as  well  as  in  a 
chariot  of  fire.” 


2 


24 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


Among  many  other  interesting  cases  was  that 
of  a  Dutchman.  “  Mine  brodders,”  said  he, 
“  I  have  also  mine  story  to  tell  about  Gott’s 
mercy.  I  was  a  great  sinner,  but  I  tot  I  was 
good  enough.  I  tot  it  was  enough  to  mind  mine 
own  business,  and  hear  de  parson  once  on  a 
Sunday.  All  de  rest  of  de  Sunday  I  sat  on  de 
bench  before  mine  door,  drinking  beer,  smoak- 
ing  mine  pipe,  and  tinking  about  mine  crops. 
But  mine  Shonny  come  home  one  day  from  one 
of  de  Metodist  meetings,  with  his  eyes  all  red, 
and  said,  ‘  O  fader,  we  must  come  unto  Christ, 
or  we  be  all  gone  to  ruin.’  Shonny  had  been 
strange  some  days,  and  now,  tot  I,  he  is  lost  his 
senses.  I  called  mine  wife,  and  said,  ‘  O  wife, 
Shonny  is  ruined.’  ‘  No,  fader,’  said  he,  ‘  I  am 
seeking  Gott’s  mercy,  widout  which  we  be  all 
gone  to  ruin.’  And  den  he  talked  at  me  one 
quarter  hour  wid  tears,  telling  me  about  sin, 
hell,  and  de  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ.  When  I 
went  to  mine  bed  dat  night,  mine  eyes  could 
not  be  shut ;  I  tot  only  of  dese  tings.  I  tot  wat 
goot  would  be  all  mine  lands  and  cattles  if  I  die 
and  go  into  hell  ?  De  next  morning  I  could  not 
eat  mine  breakfast.  I  said  to  mine  wife,  she 
must  send  for  de  doctor.  But  I  could  not  wait, 
mine  heart  jumped,  and  I  fell  on  mine  knees 
and  cried  out,  *  0,  mine  Gott,  have  mercy  on  me, 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  25 

for  I  am  going  down  into  hell.’  Shonny  prayed 
wid  me,  and  we  prayed  so  every  day,  and  we 
went  to  de  Metodist  meeting,  and,  glory  be  to 
God,  he  had  mercy  upon  us,  through  our  Sa¬ 
viour,  Jesus  Christ,  and  saved  us  from  going 
down  into  hell.  And  now,  mine  brodders,  I 
trust  in  mine  Saviour,  and  try  to  get  to  hea¬ 
ven.” 

Such  are  specimens,  interspersed  among 
some  fifty  or  more  other  testimonials,  most  of 
which  came  burning  from  the  heart,  and  were 
responded  to  audibly  by  the  joyous  and  yet 
weeping  assembly.  I  have  selected  the  most 
remarkable,  but  others  were  worthy  of  record, 
had  I  space  for  them.  Some  were  strongly 
characteristic,  some  full  of  the  marvelous,  others 
despondingly  humble.  A  few  spoke  of  dark 
and  mysterious  workings  of  the  mind,  baffled 
with  spiritual  anxieties  ;  others  stood  on  Pis- 
gah’s  top  and  saw 

u  Sweet  hills  array’d  in  living  green, 

And  rivers  of  delight.” 

Some  were  rejoicing  in  the  enjoyment  of  perfect 
love,  others  had  just  entered  into  spiritual  life, 
and  a  few,  trembling  with  penitential  anguish, 
implored  the  prayers  of  the  assembly.  Rap¬ 
turous  songs  varied  the  scene,  most  of  them 

2 


26  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

»  • 

spirit-stirring  stanzas  from  Charles  Wesley,  for 
the  ditties  of  latter  times  had  hardly  begun  to 
appear  yet. 

As  I  studied  the  scene  before  me  I  could  not 
but  admire  the  indications  of  character  which 
it  presented — the  felicitous  effect  of  religion  on 
all  varieties  of  temperament,  and  the  remarkable 
operation  of  the  energetic  system  of  Methodism 
in  seeking  out  and  combining,  in  a  common 
brotherhood,  such  diversified  elements. 

The  meeting  closed  by  singing  the  beautiful 
and  appropriate  hymn, — 

“  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 

Our  hearts  in  Christian  love  ; 

The  fellowship  of  kindred  minds 
Is  like  to  that  above.” 


2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


27 


LITERARY  AND  MORAL  ASPECTS  OF  ENGLAND 
AT  THE  BIRTH  OF  METHODISM. 

“  Perilous  times.” — Paul. 

The  circumstances  which  mark  the  origin 
of  Methodism  are  no  less  interesting  than  those 
which  distinguish  its  subsequent  periods — they 
are  in  striking  contrast  with  the  latter,  and  must 
be  considered  in  any  just  estimate  of  the  singu¬ 
lar  success  which  has  attended  the  development 
of  the  system. 

The  literature  of  the  eighteenth  century,  par¬ 
ticularly  of  its  earlier  part,  is  an  important  index 
to  the  moral  character  of  that  period.  It  pre¬ 
sents  a  brilliant  catalogue  of  names,  among 
which  are  Addison,  Steele,  Berkeley,  Swift, 
Pope,  Congreve,  Gray,  Parnell,  Young,  Thom¬ 
son,  Rowe,  Goldsmith,  and  Johnson,  besides  a 
splendid  array  in  the  more  profound  departments 
of  knowledge.  The  intelligent  reader  may 
easily  conjecture  what  must  have  been  the 
moral  aspects  of  English  society  when  the 
loose  wit  of  Congreve  was  the  attraction  of  the 
British  theatre,  and,  as  Dryden  declared,  “  the 
only  prop  of  the  declining  stage.”  Never  was 

the  drama  in  higher  repute :  the  theatre  might 

2 


28 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


in  fact  be  called  the  temple  of  England  at  this 
period.  The  best  of  her  public  writers,  like 
Addison  and  Johnson,  aspired  to  its  honors. 
What  must  have  been  the  respect  of  the  people 
for  the  church  when,  among  the  clergy,  could 
be  found  men  like  Swift  and  Sterne  to  regale  the 
gross  taste  of  the  age  with  ribald  burlesque  and 
licentious  humor  ?  And  what  were  the  popular 
fictions  of  the  day  ?  Peregrine  Pickle,  Roder¬ 
ick  Random,  Tom  Jones,  and  Joseph  Andrews 
The  names  of  Smollet  and  Fielding  obtained  a 
renown  which  renders  them  still  familiar;  while 
that  of  Richardson,  who,  as  Johnson  says,  “  was 
as  superior  to  them  in  talents  as  in  virtue,”  is 
barely  remembered.  These  were  the  parlor- 
table  books  of  the  age,  while  on  the  same  table 
lay  also  the  Metamorphoses,  translated  by  the 
wits  of  the  period,  with  Dryden  at  their  head, 
dedicated  to  the  first  ladies  of  the  court,  embel¬ 
lished  with  illustrations  which  modern  delicacy 
would  hardly  tolerate,  and  teeming  with  the 
sensual  pruriency  which  pervades  the  polite 
writings  of  that  and  the  preceding  age.  Dry¬ 
den  died  at  the  beginning  of  the  century,  and 
his  writings,  as  full  of  vice  as  of  genius,  were 
in  general  vogue.  The  infidel  works  of  Hobbes, 
Tindal,  Shaftsbury,  and  Chubb,  were  in  full  cir¬ 
culation,  and  were  powerfully  reinforced  by  the 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  29 

appearance  of  the  three  greatest  giants  in  the 
cause  of  speculative  error  which  modern  times 
have  produced — Bolingbroke,  Hume,  and  Gib¬ 
bon — the  first  influential  by  his  political  emi¬ 
nence  and  political  partisans,  and  by  the  adorn¬ 
ments  which  the  harmonious  verse  of  Pope 
gave  to  his  sentiments  ;  the  second  by  all  the 
arts  of  insinuation,  and  by  a  style  which,  says 
Sir  J.  Mackintosh,  “  was  more  lively,  more 
easy,  more  ingratiating,  and,  if  the  word  may 
be  so  applied,  more  amusing  than  that  of  any 
other  metaphysical  writer and  the  last  by 
weaving  his  perverse  opinions  into  one  of  the 
greatest  works  of  the  human  intellect,  a  pro¬ 
duction  as  corrupt  in  its  sentiments  as  it  is 
magnificent  in  its  execution.  The  intelligent 
reader  need  not  be  reminded  that  the  same  class 
of  writers  had  triumphed,  and  were  at~tj|is  time 
in  full  prevalence,  across  the  channel.  The 
Encyclopedists  had  attempted  the  infernal  pro¬ 
ject  of  eradicating  from  the  whole  circle  of  the 
sciences  every  trace  of  Christian  truth  ;  and 
the  polite  writers  of  France,  headed  by  Voltaire 
and  Rousseau,  had  decked  the  corrupt  doctrines 
of  the  day  with  all  the  attractions  of  eloquence 
and  poetry,  humor  and  satire,  until  they  swept, 
like  a  sirocco  in  tempest,  over  the  nation,  wither¬ 
ing,  not  only  the  sentiments  of  religion,  but  the 

2 


30 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


instincts  of  humanity,  and  subverting,  at  last,  in 
common  ruin,  the  altar,  the  throne,  and  the 
sacred  protections  of  domestic  life.  Notwith¬ 
standing  the  inveterate  antipathies  which  exist¬ 
ed  between  the  two  nations,  the  contagion  of 
French  opinions,  both  in  religion  and  politics, 
infected  England  seriously  during  most  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  one  of  the  most 
interesting  departments  of  the  English  literature 
of  the  last  century  owes  its  birth  to  the  alarm 
which  the  better-disposed  literati  of  the  age 
took  at  the  general  declension  of  manners  and 
morals,  and  their  attempt  to  check  it.  I  refer 
to  the  Periodical  Essay.  The  British  Essayists 
are  technically  distinguished  in  our  literature. 
They  form  a  department  which  has  become 
classical.  A  foreign  writer  says  that  they  have 
been  reprinted  more  extensively  than  any  other 
books  in  our  language,  except  the  Scriptures. 
Some  of  the  brightest  names  in  the  catalogue 
of  English  writers  owe  much  of  their  fame  to 
these  works.  Among  them  may  be  mentioned 
Steele,  Addison,  Berkeley,  and  Johnson. 

These  publications,  which  afterward  became 
so  distinguished,  were  conducted  as  ephemeral 
sheets.  They  were  issued  twice  or  thrice  a 

week,  and  contained  brief  articles,  which  dis- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  31 

cussed  the  follies  and  vices  of  the  times. 
Their  character  was  generally  humorous  or 
sarcastic :  occasionally  they  contained  a  sober 
rebuke  of  the  irreligion  of  the  day.  The  first 
in  the  list  is  the  Tattler ,  projected  by  Steele, 
but  to  which  Addison  was  a  frequent  contributor. 
It  s  almost  exclusively  confined  to  the  superfi¬ 
cial  defects  of  society.  It  is  the  best  picture 
extant  of  the  domestic,  moral,  and  literary  con¬ 
dition  of  the  early  part  of  that  century.  The 
Spectator,  conducted  conjointly  by  Addison  and 
Steele,  followed  the  Tattler.  It  is  still  one  of 
the  most  popular  works  of  our  language  ;  and 
presents,  perhaps,  one  of  the  best  standards  of 
correct  English  style  which  we  possess.  Next 
appeared  the  Guardian,  projected  by  Steele, 
but  aided  much  by  Addison,  Pope,  and  Berkeley. 
A  long  list  of  miscellaneous  writers  of  the  same 
class  followed,  who  have  not  been  placed,  by 
public  opinion,  in  the  rank  of  the  classical 
essayists.  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  Rambler,  re¬ 
stored  the  periodical  essay  to  its  first  dig¬ 
nity. 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  these  writers 
aimed,  at  first,  more  at  the  correction  of  the  fol¬ 
lies  than  the  sins  of  the  times.  They  grew 
serious,  however,  as  they  grew  important.  It 

is  curious  to  observe  their  increasing  severity, 

2 


32 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


as  they  obtained  authority  by  time  and  popu¬ 
larity. 

Steele,  from  a  long  and  various  study  of  the 
world,  painted,  with  minute  accuracy,  its  absurd¬ 
ities.  Addison,  with  a  style  the  most  pure,  and 
a  humor  mild  and  elegant,  attempted  to  correct 
the  literary  taste  of  the  times,  and  to  shed  the 
radiance  of  genius  on  the  despised  virtues  of 
Christianity.  He  rescued  Milton  from  neglect. 
He  exemplified  in  death  the  power  of  his  prin¬ 
ciples.  Pope  satirized,  in  some  admirable  cri¬ 
tiques,  the  literary  follies  of  the  day.  Berke¬ 
ley  attacked,  with  his  clear  logic  and  finished 
style,  the  skeptical  opinions  which  were  then 
prevalent.  Most  of  his  articles  are  on  “  Free- 
thinking  and  Johnson,  “  the  great  moralist,” 
stood  up  a  giant  to  battle,  with  both  hands, 
against  all  error  and  irreligion,  whether  in  high 
places  or  low  places. 

These  writings  exerted  an  influence  upon  the 
tastes  and  morals  of  the  age  ;  but  it  was  com¬ 
paratively  superficial.  Gay,  who  was  contem¬ 
porary  with  Addison  and  Steele,  says,  “  It  is 
incredible  to  conceive  the  effect  they  have  had 
on  the  town  ;  how  many  thousand  follies  they 
have  either  quite  banished  or  given  a  very  great 
check  to  ;  how  much  countenance  they  have 

added  to  virtue  and  religion  ;  how  many  they 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


33 


have  rendered  happy  by  showing  that,  it  was 
their  own  fault  if  they  were  not  so.”  Miss  H. 
More  has  devoted  a  chapter  in  her  Education 
of  a  Princess  to  this  interesting  portion  of  ou 
literature.  She  speaks  in  the  highest  terms  of 
Addison’s  influence,  and  confirms  my  statements 
of  the  age  : — “  At  a  period  when  religion  was 
held  in  more  than  usual  contempt,  from  its  hav¬ 
ing  been  recently  abused  to  the  worst  purposes, 
and  when  the  higher  walks  of  life  exhibited 
that  dissoluteness  which  the  profligate  reign  of 
the  second  Charles  has  made  so  deplorably 
fashionable,  Addison  seems  to  have  been  raised 
up  by  Providence  for  the  double  purpose  of 
improving  the  public  taste  and  correcting  the 
public  morals.  As  the  powers  of  imagination 
had,  in  the  preceding  age,  been  peculiarly  abused 
to  the  purposes  of  vice,  it  was  Addison’s  great 
object  to  show  that  vice  and  impurity  have  no 
necessary  connection  with  genius.  He  not  only 
evinced  this  by  his  reasonings,  but  he  so  ex¬ 
emplified  it  by  his  own  compositions  as  to  be¬ 
come,  in  a  short  time,  more  generally  useful,  by 
becoming  more  popular,  than  any  writer  who  had 
yet  appeared.  This  well-earned  celebrity  he 
endeavored  to  turn  to  the  best  of  all  purposes  ; 
and  his  success  was  such  as  to  prove  that  genius 
is  never  so  advantageously  employed  as  in  the 
Vol.  IT, —3 


34 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


service  of  virtue — no  influence  so  well  directed 
as  in  rendering  piety  fashionable.” 

While  I  commend  these  writers  for  the  ele¬ 
vated  purpose  which  they  proposed,  a  purpose 
noble  as  it  was  novel  among  what  are  called 
polite  writers,  I  repeat  that  their  influence  was 
comparatively  superficial — it  was  infinitely  short 
of  what  was  necessary — it  was  moral,  but  not 
spiritual.  It  was  on  the  side  of  Christianity, 
but  had  nothing  to  do  with  those  great  evan¬ 
gelical  truths  which  are  the  vital  elements  of 
Christianity,  in  which  inheres  its  renovating 
energy.  It  is  the  diffusion  of  these  truths  among 
the  popular  mass  that  alone  can  effect  any  gen¬ 
eral  and  permanent  elevation  of  man.  It  was 
reserved  for  the  agency  of  Methodism  to  revive 
and  spread  them,  with  a  transforming  efficacy, 
through  the  British  empire  and  most  of  the 
civilized  world.  I  have  referred  to  thesi 
writers,  therefore,  only  as  evidences  of  the  con¬ 
viction,  felt  by  the  better-disposed  literary 
leaders  of  the  day,  that  some  new  check  was 
necessary  to  stop  the  overwhelming  progress 
of  vice.  The  pictures  of  vice  which  they  ex¬ 
hibit,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  attempt 
the  necessary  reform,  show  that  society  was 
not  only  deplorably  wicked,  but  that  the  ade¬ 
quate  means  of  its  recovery  were  not  under 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  35 

stood  by  those  who  lamented  its  evils.  But 
let  us  turn  our  attention  to  other  views  of  the 
subject. 

There  is  abundant  testimony  that  1  have  not 
exaggerated  the  degeneracy  of  the  period  refer¬ 
red  to.  The  writings  which  have  been  des¬ 
cribed  reflect,  as  in  a  mirror,  its  morals,  and  we 
can  scarcely  detect  a  single  evidence  that  spi¬ 
ritual  Christianity  was  at  all  comprehended  by 
the  mass,  and,  perhaps,  no  better  by  the  ele¬ 
vated  few.  I  speak  of  that  which  constitutes 
the  speciality  of  religion  as  a  regenerating  en¬ 
ergy,  a  system  of  internal  spiritual  virtues,  of 
which  forms  and  morals  are  not  the  substance, 
but  the  spontaneous  manifestation,  as  the  light 
of  day  is  but  the  effusion  of  the  burning  centre 
of  radiation. 

Natural  religion  was  the  favorite  study  of  the 
clergy,  and  included  most  of  their  theology. 
Arianism  and  Socinianism,  propagated  by  such 
men  as  Dr.  S.  Clarke,  Priestley,  and  Whiston, 
were  becoming  fashionable  among  the  learned, 
and  Calvinism  was  tending,  with  full  speed,  to 
.Antinomianism.  Some  of  the  brightest  names 
of  the  times  can  be  quoted  as  exceptions  to 
these  remarks  ;  but  this  was  the  general  condi¬ 
tion  of  religion  in  England.  The  higher  classes 
laughed  at  piety,  and  prided  themselves  on  being 

2 


36 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


above  what  they  called  the  infection  of  its 
fanaticism  ;  the  lower  classes  were  grossly 
ignorant,  and  abandoned  to  vice  ;  while  the 
church,  enervated  by  a  universal  decline,  was 
unable  any  longer  to  give  countenance  to  the 
downfallen  cause  of  truth. 

This  general  decline  had  reached  its  ex* 
tremity  when  Wesley  and  his  coadjutors  ap¬ 
peared.  “  It  was,”  to  use  his  own  words,  “just 
at  the  time  when  we  wanted  little  of  filling  up 
the  measure  of  our  iniquities,  that  two  or  three 
clergymen  of  the  Church  of  England  began  ve¬ 
hemently  to  call  sinners  to  repentance.”  His 
own  testimony  to  the  irreligion  of  the  times  is 
truly  appalling.  “  What,”  he  asks,  “  is  the  pre¬ 
sent  characteristic  of  the  English  nation  ?  It  is 
ungodliness.  This  is  at  present  the  characteris¬ 
tic  of  the  English  nation.  Ungodliness  is  our 
universal,  our  constant,  our  peculiar  character. 
A  total  ignorance  of  God  is  almost  universal 
among  us.  The  exceptions  are  exceedingly 
few,  both  among  the  learned  and  the  unlearned. 
High  and  low  are  as  ignorant  of  the  Creator  of 
the  world  as  Mohammedans  or  pagans.”  Let 
not  these  fearful  statements  be  condemned  as 
ex  parte.  Those  who  are  entitled  to  be  classed 
among  the  enemies  of  this  extraordinary  man 
confirm  them.  Southey  says,  “  The  clergy  had 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


37 


lost  that  authority  which  may  always  command, 
at  least,  the  appearance  of  respect ;  and  they 
had  lost  that  respect  also  by  which  the  place 
of  authority  may  sometimes  so  much  more  woi- 
thily  be  supplied.  For  the  loss  of  power  they 
were  not  censurable  ;  but  if  they  possessed  but 
little  of  that  influence  which  the  minister  who 
diligently  and  conscientiously  discharges  his 
duty  will  certainly  acquire,  it  is  manifest  that  as 
a  body  they  must  have  been  culpably  remiss. 
In  the  great  majority  of  the  clergy  zeal  was 
wanting.  The  excellent  Leighton  spoke  of  the 
church  as  a  fair  carcass  without  a  spirit.  Bur¬ 
net  observes  that,  in  his  time,  our  clergy  had 
less  authority,  and  were  under  more  contempt, 
than  those  of  any  other  church  in  all  Europe ; 
for  they  were  much  the  most  remiss  in  their 
labors,  and  the  least  severe  in  their  lives.  It 
was  not  that  their  lives  were  scandalous  ;  he 
entirely  acquitted  them  of  any  such  imputation  ; 
but  they  were  not  exemplary,  as  it  became  them 
to  be ;  and,  in  the  sincerity  of  a  pious  and  re¬ 
flecting  mind,  he  pronounced  that  they  would 
never  regain  the  influence  they  had  lost  till  they 
lived  better  and  labored  more.” 

The  best  contemporary  authorities  confirm 
these  statements,  and  do  so  with  an  emphasis 
which  cannot  but  strike  us  as  remarkable.  Dr. 

2 


38 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


Watts  declares  that  there  was  “  a  general  de¬ 
cay  of  vital  religion  in  the  hearts  and  lives  of 
men  that  “  this  declension  of  piety  and  virtuev 
was  common  among  dissenters  and  churchmen  ; 
that  it  was  “  a  general  matter  of  mournful  ob¬ 
servation  among  all  who  lay  the  cause  of  God 
to  heart and  he  calls  upon  “  every  one”  to  use 
all  possible  efforts  for  “  the  recovery  of  dying 
religion  in  the  world”  Another  writer  asserts 
that  “  the  Spirit  of  God  has  so  far  departed 
from  the  nation,  that  hereby  almost  all  vital 
religion  is  lost  out  of  the  world.”  Another  au¬ 
thor  says,  “  The  present  modish  turn  of  religion 
looks  as  if  we  had  no  need  of  a  Mediator,  but 
that  all  our  concerns  with  God  were  managed 
with  him  as  an  absolute  God.  The  religion  of 
nature  makes  up  the  darling  topics  of  our  age ; 
and  the  religion  of  Jesus  is  valued  only  for  the 
sake  of  that,  and  only  so  far  as  it  carries  on  the 
light  of  nature,  and  is  a  bare  improvement  of  that 
kind  of  light.  All  that  is  restrictively  Christian, 
or  that  is  peculiar  to  Christ — everything  con¬ 
cerning  him  that  has  not  its  apparent  foundation 
in  natural  light,  or  that  goes  beyond  its  princi¬ 
ples — is  waived,  and  banished,  and  despised.” 

The  venerable  Burnet  speaks  on  this  subject 
with  a  pathos  truly  affecting  :  “  I  am  now  in 
my  seventieth  year.  I  cannot  speak  long  in  the 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  39 

vorld,  therefore  I  lay  hold  on  the  present  time 
to  give  free  vent  to  those  sad  thoughts  that  lie 
on  my  mind  both  day  and  night,  and  are  the 
subject  of  many  secret  mournings.”  He  de¬ 
clares,  he  “  cannot  look  on,  without  the  deepest 
concern,  when  he  sees  the  imminent  min  which 
hangs  over  the  church ;  and  this  ruin''  he  asserts, 
“  threatens  the  whole  reformation .”  “  The  out¬ 

ward  state  of  things  is  bleak  enough,  God 
knows  ;  but  that  which  heightens  my  fears  rises 
chiefly  from  the  inward  state  into  which  we 
are  unhappily  fallen!” 

Archbishop  Seeker  says,  “  In  this  we  cannot 
be  mistaken,  that  an  open  and  professed  disre¬ 
gard  is  become,  through  a  variety  of  unhappy 
causes,  the  distinguishing  character  of  the  pre¬ 
sent  age.”  “  Such,”  he  declares,  “  are  the  dis¬ 
soluteness  and  contempt  of  principle  in  the 
higher  part  of  the  world,  and  the  profligacy, 
intemperance,  and  fearlessness  of  committing 
crimes,  in  the  lower,  as  must,  if  this  torrent  of 
impiety  stop  not,  become  absolutely  fatal.”  He 
further  asserts  that  “Christianity  is  ridiculed  and 
railed  at  with  very  little  reserve,  and  the  teach¬ 
ers  of  it  without  any  at  all  and  this  testimony 
was  made  but  one  year  before  that  which  is 
commemorated  as  the  original  year  of  Method¬ 
ism.  About  this  same  time  Butler  published 

2 


40  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

his  unparalleled  work  on  the  Analogy  between 
Religion  and  the  Constitution  and  Course  of 
Nature.  In  his  preface  he  gives  a  deplorable 
description  of  the  religious  world.  He  concurs 
with  the  preceding  authorities  in  representing 
it  in  the  very  extreme  of  decline.  “  It  has  come 
to  be  taken  for  granted  that  Christianity  is  no 
longer  a  subject  of  inquiry  ;  but  that  it  is  now 
at  length  discovered  to  be  fictitious.  And  ac¬ 
cordingly  it  is  treated  as  if,  in  the  present  age, 
this  were  an  agreed  point  among  all  persons  of 
discernment,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  set  it 
up  a  principal  subject  for  mirth  and  ridicule.” 

I  have  been  the  more  minute  on  this  subject 
because,  as  a  church,  we  have  been  accused  of 
arrogance  in  ascribing  too  much  importance  to 
the  influence  of  Methodism.  When  it  is  con¬ 
sidered  that  it  found  the  Christian  world  in  this 
perilous  extremity,  and  that  the  contrast  which 
the  present  state  of  Protestant  Christendom  ex¬ 
hibits  has  been  subsequently  effected,  perhaps 
the  liability  of  exaggeration  will  not  be  so 
strongly  suspected. 

The  rise  of  Methodism,  under  these  circum¬ 
stances,  presents  a  most  sublime  instance  of 
moral  triumph,  and  of  the  deathless  energy  of 
those  great  principles  which  Christianity  has 
set  in  operation  for  the  regeneration  of  the 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


41 


world ;  and  which  prophecy,  through  many 
weary  ages,  and  in  many  dark  intervals,  when 
their  radiance  has  seemed  almost  extinguished, 
and  their  efficacy  exhausted,  has  still,  with  un¬ 
faltering  emphasis,  pronounced  to  be  invincible. 
Let  good  men  learn  not  to  despair,  and  the  foes 
of  Christianity  not  to  hope,  in  the  hour  of  her 
trial.  The  sun,  when  his  rays  are  intercepted 
by  clouds,  is  not  annihilated,  but  still  wheels  on 
in  his  chariot  of  fire  above  the  darkness  and  the 
storm,  and,  when  they  have  subsided,  bursts 
with  but  greater  splendor  on  the  world.  The 
whole  history  of  religion  teaches  the  lesson  of 
confidence  to  its  friends,  and  of  failure  to  its 
enemies.  Its  triumphant  delivery  in  its  patri¬ 
archal  form,  in  Egypt ;  its  extraordinary  and 
victorious  struggle  with  classic  Polytheism, 
throughout  the  Roman  empire  ;  its  successful 
conflict  with  the  stupendous  superstitions  of 
Popery,  when  it  dissipated  the  darkness  of  ten 
centuries;  and  its  renovation  under  Wesley, 
when  it  combated  and  overcame  polished  skepti¬ 
cism,  learned  heterodoxy,  and  general  irreligion, 
— all  show  that,  however  dark  its  occasional  ob¬ 
scuration  may  be,  it  possesses  an  inherent  power 
of  self-renovation  which  allows  no  final  hope  to 
its  opposers.  At  the  very  moment  when  Bishop 
Butler  penned  the  above  fearful  description  of 

2 


42 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  English  Church,  and  skeptics  were  con¬ 
gratulating  themselves  with  the  thought  that 
Christianity  was  expiring  in  its  dotage,  the  “holy 
club,”  at  Oxford,  were  kindling  a  fire  which,  in 
the  words  of  an  English  reformer  to  his  fellow- 
martyr,  at  the  stake,  was  to  “  put  all  England 
in  a  blaze  and  which  is  still  extending,  like 
flame  in  stubble,  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  world.  God  was  preparing,  at  this  time, 
Wesley,  Whitefield,  and  their  coadjutors,  to 
meet  the  crisis  ;  and,  on  the  clouds  of  that  dark 
period  he  wrote,  as  with  their  own  lightning, 
the  date  of  a  new  epoch  in  the  history  of  the 
church.  Protestant  Christendom  has  been  par¬ 
tially  regenerated  since  that  period  ;  and  nearly 
the  whole  series  of  benevolent  institutions  which 
are  now  redeeming  the  world  sprang  up  from 
its  darkness. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


43 


BISHOP  ASBURY  AND  BLACK  PUNCH. 

“A  word  in  season — Isaiah. 

One  of  the  greatest  misfortunes  of  our  deno¬ 
minational  literature  is  that  we  have  no  biogra¬ 
phy  of  Bishop  Asbury.  What  a  life  was  his ! 
What  a  diversified  delineation  would  his  history 
be !  And  yet  it  is  not  the  great  deeds  of  that 
great  man — his  vast  journeyings,  incessant 
preaching,  and  executive  plans — that  illustrate 
fully  his  character  ;  he  that  would  write  a  genu¬ 
ine  biography  of  Asbury  must  gather  from  all 
the  wide-spread  country  the  numerous  inci¬ 
dents,  of  his  more  personal  life,  the  anecdotes 
and  sayings  that  exhibit  characteristically  the 
man. 

One  of  these,  an  affecting  fact  in  itself,  as 
well  as  an  illustration  of  the  bishop’s  character, 
occurred,  in  1798,  on  his  journey  to  Charles¬ 
ton,  S.  C.  He  passed  a  creek,  in  the  parish  of 
St - ,  on  the  bank  of  which  sat  a  slave  fish¬ 

ing  and  humming  a  ditty  ;  his  name  was  Punch. 
He  was  notorious  for  his  vicious  character. 
The  good  bishop  on  riding  toward  him,  be¬ 
thought  himself  that  under  that  squalid  exterior 
lived  an  immortal  spirit  for  whom  Christ  had 
died,  and  the  salvation  of  which  would  be  a 

2 


44 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


higher  achievement  than  the  conquest  of  a 
world.  Such  were  familiar  thoughts  to  that 
great  mind.  He  stopped  his  horse,  and  entered 
into  conversation  with  the  negro. 

“  Do  you  ever  pray,  my  friend  ?”  inquired 
the  bishop. 

“  No  sir,”  replied  Punch. 

The  bishop  deliberately  proceeded  to  alight, 
fasten  his  horse  to  a  tree,  and  seat  himself  by 
the  side  of  the  slave. 

Punch  was  evidently  astonished  at  the  good 
man’s  conduct,  but  was  relieved  immediately 
by  the  kindness  of  his  tones.  He  commenced 
a  minute  conversation  with  him  on  religion, 
explaining  the  nature  and  consequences  of  sin, 
the  atonement,  repentance,  justification  by  faith, 
the  certainty  of  death,  the  terrors  of  the  judg¬ 
ment  and  hell.  The  bishop,  earnest  for  the 
rescue  of  this  benighted,  but  immortal  spirit, 
warmed  into  exhortation  and  entreaty.  Punch 
soon  began  to  feel,  tears  ran  down  his  sable 
cheeks,  he  seemed  deeply  alarmed  at  his  dan¬ 
ger,  and  listened  with  intenseness  to  the  coun¬ 
sels  of  the  singular  stranger. 

After  a  long  conversation  the  bishop  sung  the 
hymn, — 

“  Plunged  in  a  gulf  of  dark  despair,” — 

prayed  with  him,  and  pursued  his  journey,  doubt- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


45 


less  thinking  of  and  praying  for  the  poor  slave 
as  he  measured  the  miles  of  his  tedious  route. 

More  than  twenty  years  elapsed  before  he 
saw  again  or  heard  anything  of  Punch.  While 
on  another  visit  to  Charleston  he  was  called 
upon  by  an  aged  and  Christian  negro,  who  had 
obtained  permission  from  his  master  to  visit 
him,  and  had  traveled  seventy  miles  on  foot  for 
the  purpose.  It  was  the  slave  he  had  warned 
and  prayed  over  on  the  bank  of  the  creek,  and 
who  had  ever  since  been  journeying  on  the  way 
to  heaven.  What  a  lesson  must  this  interview 
have  taught  the  apostolic  bishop !  What  an 
encouragement  to  labor  and  pray  for  the  salva¬ 
tion  of  souls  under  the  most  forbidding  circum¬ 
stances  ! 

The  bishop  had  no  sooner  left  Punch  on  the 
bank  of  the  stream  than  he  took  up  his  fishing 
tackle  and  hastened  home  in  the  deepest  agita¬ 
tion  of  mind,  pondering  over  the  words  of  the 
venerable  man. 

The  divine  Spirit  was  operating  upon  his 
dark  mind,  new  light,  new  thoughts,  stirring 
the  depths  of  the  soul,  had  dawned  upon  him. 
He  endeavored  to  conform  to  the  instructions 
he  had  received,  and  when  some  days  of  an¬ 
guish  and  prayer  had  elapsed,  he  found  peace 

in  believing,  and  became  a  new  man.  The 

2 


46 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


change  was  too  manifest  not  to  be  discovered 
by  his  fellow-servants — it  was  the  topic  of  his 
conversation  with  them  incessantly.  In  his 
simple  way  he  pointed  them  to  the  Lamb  of 
God  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world, 
and  though  they  lived  at  a  time  when  religious 
instruction  was  rare  among  slaves,  yet  they 
comprehended  the  novel  tale,  and  many  of  them 
became  thoroughly  penitent  for  theii  sins,  and, 
guided  by  the  Spirit  of  grace,  found  “  the  know¬ 
ledge  of  salvation  by  the  remission  of  sins 
through  faith  in  Christ  Jesus.”  The  interest  ex¬ 
tended  from  one  to  another,  and  throngs  of  the 
neglected  Africans  resorted  to  his  humble  cabin 
to  receive  his  exhortations  and  prayers. 

Several  remarkable  results  followed,  one  of 
which  was  the  conversion  of  a  perverse  over¬ 
seer  who  had  charge  of  the  plantation.  This 
man,  perceiving  the  increasing  interest  of  the 
slaves  for  their  souls,  and  their  constant  attend¬ 
ance  in  the  evenings  at  Punch’s  cabin,  deter¬ 
mined  to  put  a  stop  to  the  spreading  leaven. 
He  forbade  Punch  to  hold  religious  meetings 
among  them  ;  he  was,  therefore,  confined  in  his 
Christian  labors  to  those  who  belonged  to  his 
own  cabin,  and  a  few  immediately  adjacent, 
who  clandestinely  met  with  him  when  they 
could  with  safety.  One  evening,  when  the 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


47 


little  band  were  praying  together,  the  over¬ 
seer’s  voice  was  heard  without,  loudly  calling 
for  Punch.  They  were  all  terrified,  suspecting 
that  he  had  discovered  them,  and  was  summon¬ 
ing  their  devoted  guide  to  a  severe  chastise¬ 
ment.  Punch  went  out ;  but  he  found  the  over¬ 
seer  on  his  knees  under  a  tree,  alternately 
supplicating  the  mercy  of  God,  and  calling  on 
the  poor  slave  to  pray  for  him.  God’s  Spirit, 
probably  by  the  example  of  these  converted 
negroes,  had  got  hold  upon  his  conscience.  His 
attempt  to  suppress  their  meetings  could  not 
suppress  his  convictions  ;  they  deepened,  and 
at  last,  overpowering  him,  led  him  to  seek  relief 
in  prayer  under  the  tree,  and  there  they  con¬ 
strained  him  to  implore  the  sympathies  and 
prayers  of  poor  Punch.  The  negroes  gathered 
around  him  and  prayed  with  him  till  God,  in  his 
mercy,  pardoned  and  comforted  him.  The  over¬ 
seer  now  became  a  coworker  with  Punch  amoncr 

O 

them  ;  he  joined  the  nearest  Methodist  Church, 
and,  in  time,  became  an  exhorter,  and  finally  a 
preacher ! 

Punch  had  now  full  liberty  to  do  good  among 
his  associates.  He  exhorted,  prayed,  and  led 
them  on,  as  a  shepherd  his  flock,  and  extended 
his  usefulness  around  the  whole  neighborhood. 
After  many  years  he  was  removed,  by  the  de- 

2 


48 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


cease  of  his  master  and  the  distribution  of  the 
estate,  to  the  parish  of  A.,  where  he  continued 
to  labor  for  the  souls  of  his  fellow-bondsmen 
with  still  greater  success.  Scores,  and  even 
hundreds,  were  converted  through  his  instru¬ 
mentality.  He  sustained  a  kind  of  pastoral 
charge  over  them  for  several  years.  The 
preacher  from  whom  we  have  these  particu¬ 
lars  was  the  first  missionary  who  found  them 
out.  He  writes  :  “  In  1836,  at  the  special  soli¬ 
citation  of  planters  of  that  particular  section  of 
country,  a  missionary  was  sent  to  their  planta¬ 
tions  from  the  South  Carolina  Conference.  I 
was  honored  with  the  appointment.  On  my 
reaching  the  plantation  where  Punch  lived,  I 
found  between  two  and  three  hundred  persons 
under  his  spiritual  supervision,  who  had  been 
gathered  into  a  kind  of  society ;  many  of  whom, 
upon  further  acquaintance,  I  discovered  to  be 
truly  pious  and  consistent.  I  was  much  inte¬ 
rested  on  my  first  visit  to  the  old  veteran.  Just 
before  I  reached  his  house,  I  met  a  herdsman, 
and  asked  him  if  there  was  any  preacher  on 
the  plantation.  ‘  O  yes,  massa,  de  ole  bushup 
lib  here!’  ‘  Is  he  a  good  preacher?’  said  I. 
‘  O  yes,’  was  the  reply,  ‘  he  ward  burn  we 
heart !’  He  showed  me  the  house.  I  knocked 

at  the  door,  and  heard  approaching  footsteps 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


49 


and  the  sound  of  a  cane  upon  the  floor.  The 
door  opened,  and  I  saw  before  me,  leaning  upon 
a  staff,  a  hoary-headed  black  man,  with  palsied 
limbs,  but  a  smiling  face.  He  looked  at  me 
for  a  moment  in  silence  ;  then,  raising  his  hands 
and  eyes  to  heaven,  he  said,  ‘  Now,  Lord,  let- 
test  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine 
eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation.’  I  was  confused. 
He  asked  me  to  take  a  seat ;  and  I  found  in  the 
following  remarks  the  reason  of  his  exclama¬ 
tion.  Said  he,  ‘  I  have  many  children  in  this 
place.  I  have  felt,  for  some  time  past,  that  my 
end  was  nigh.  I  have  looked  around  to  see 
who  might  take  my  place  when  I  am  gone.  I 
could  find  no  one.  I  felt  unwilling  to  die  and 
leave  them  so,  and  have  been  praying  to  God 
to  send  some  one  to  take  care  of  them.  The 
Lord  has  sent  you,  my  child  ;  I  am  now  ready 
to  go.’  Tears  coursed  freely  down  his  time- 
shriveled  face.  I  was  overwhelmed. 

“  This  interview  gave  me  much  encourage¬ 
ment.  He  had  heard  of  the  application  for  a 
missionary,  and  only  wanted  to  live  long  enough 
to  see  his  face.  After  this  I  had  several  inter¬ 
views  with  him,  from  which  I  learned  his  early 
history.  I  always  found  him  contented  and 
happy.  Some  time  afterward  he  was  taken  ill, 

and  lingered  a  few  days.  On  a  sabbath  morn- 
Vol.  II.— 4 


50 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


ing  he  told  me  he  thought  he  should  die  that 
day.  He  addressed  affecting  words  to  the  peo¬ 
ple  who  crowded  around  his  dying  bed  ;  the 
burden  of  his  remarks — the  theme  of  his  soul, 
was,  ‘  Now,  Lord,  lettest  thou  thy  servant  de¬ 
part  in  peace !’  He  applied  these  words  to 
himself,  and  continued  his  address  to  the  last 
moment ;  and  death  gently  stole  his  spirit  away 
while  saying,  ‘  Let  thy  servant  depart  in  peace 
— let — let — le  !’ 

“  His  mistress  sent  for  me  to  preach  his  fune¬ 
ral  sermon.  The  corpse  was  decently  shrouded, 
and  the  coffin  was  carried  to  the  house  of  wor¬ 
ship.  I  looked  upon  the  face  of  the  cold  clay. 
The  departed  spirit  had  left  the  impress  of  hea¬ 
ven  upon  it.  Could  I  be  at  a  loss  for  a  text  ?  I 
read  out  of  the  Gospel,  ‘  Now,  Lord,  lettest  thou 
thy  servant  depart  in  peace.’  ” 

Blessed  be  God  for  the  saving  power  of  his 
word  and  Spirit !  This  poor  negro,  vicious  and 
ignorant,  appealed  to  by  a  passing  ambassador 
of  Christ,  is  pierced  to  the  heart,  and,  without 
subsequent  guidance  from  man,  becomes,  by  the 
renewal  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  child  of  God,  an 
heir  of  glory — the  instrument  of  the  conversion 
of  his  persecutor,  and  the  spiritual  guide  of 
hundreds  of  African  converts !  and  goes  up  at 
last,  in  glorious  ascension,  to  the  “  heavenly 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


51 


Jerusalem,  the  innumerable  company  of  an¬ 
gels  !” 

And  what  an  example  does  this  incident  fur¬ 
nish  to  the  doers  of  good !  Many  would  pro¬ 
bably  have  passed  by  the  benighted  bondman 
at  the  brook,  as  did  the  priest  and  Levite  the 
wounded  man  on  the  wray  to  Jericho.  But  the 
human  spirit,  habited  in  rags,  and  deformed  by 
ignorance  and  vice,  is  as  valuable  in  the  estima¬ 
tion  of  angels,  as  when  clothed  with  the  regalia 
of  thrones  ;  and  such  should  be  its  estimation 
by  all  Christ’s  followers.  How,  then,  should 
they  “  be  instant,  in  season  and  out  of  season,” 
becoming  all  things  to  all  men,  that  they  may 
save  some  ! 

This  act  of  usefulness  is  a  striking  illustra¬ 
tion  of  Asbury’s  character — a  higher  certificate 
of  his  apostleship  than  could  be  the  loftiest  abi¬ 
lities  of  the  pulpit,  or  the  most  pompous  impo¬ 
sition  of  prelatical  hands.  Who  can  doubt  that, 
in  heaven,  it  will  be  signalized  for  its  results 
more  than  any  of  those  polemical  displays  or 
powers  of  ecclesiastical  leadership  which  pro 
cure  the  fame  of  greatness  on  earth  ?  If  I  ever 
reach  the  better  world,  I  expect  to  see  this 
greatest  of  modern  bishops  walking  the  golden 
streets  with  the  redeemed  slave  by  his  side, 
one  of  his  noblest  trophies  ! 


2 


52 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


A  THEOLOGICAL  SKETCH. 

“  Men  ought  alioays  to  pray." — Christ. 

I  have  heard  to-day  a  discourse  on  the  ex¬ 
cellency  of  prayer.  The  subject  possesses  a 
logical  importance  and  a  practical  grandeur 
which  interested  me  much,  and  induce  me  to 
record  some  of  its  outlines. 

If  our  world,  said  the  preacher,  had  rolled  on 
until  this  date  in  its  present  depravity,  and  that 
agony  of  moral  wo  which  yet  overspreads  it; 
and  if  it  had  possessed  a  less  perfect  revelation, 
one  which  afforded  a  true  knowledge  of  its  lost 
condition,  and  the  awful  character  of  God,  but 
no  notion  of  access  to  him  by  prayer,  through 
the  merits  of  an  atonement ;  if  it,  at  this  mo¬ 
ment,  were  in  such  a  state — trembling  under 
the  knowledge  of  God  without  daring  to  look 
up  unto  him — groping  through  a  half-illuminated 
darkness,  in  which  the  realities  of  present 
wretchedness  could  be  seen,  but  not  the  hopes 
of  future  relief ;  what  would  be  the  effect  of  a 
proclamation  made  convincingly  to  the  whole 
earth,  say  by  an  apparition  of  angels  in  the  firma¬ 
ment,  as  once  in  the  plains  of  Bethlehem,  tha> 
on  a  given  day  God  would  hear  prayer ,  and  tha* 

supplication,  offered  on  terms  practicable  to  all. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  53 

should  secure  any  blessing  truly  appropriate  to 
man,  and  should  avail  for  the  blessedness  of 
the  suppliant,  even  through  everlasting  ages  ? 
Wliat  amazement  and  exultation  would  such  an 
event  spread  through  the  world  !  How  would 
the  hours  and  moments  which  were  yet  to  pre¬ 
cede  that  day  be  counted !  How  would  the 
friends  of  the  sick,  by  the  virtue  of  medicines, 
and  by  tender  cares,  try  to  preserve  the  flicker¬ 
ing  existence,  that  the  dying  beloved  one  might 
pray  before  he  departed,  and  the  aged  and  de¬ 
spairing,  who  have  longed  for  the  grave,  seek 
to  prolong  their  lives  to  the  auspicious  morning! 
Surely  such  a  proclamation,  under  such  circum¬ 
stances,  would  be  like  the  trump  of  resurrection 
to  the  saints,  and  the  emotions  of  mankind  would 
be  like  those  of  the  despairing  lunatic,  when 
some  beautiful  dream  deludes  his  sleep,  and 
mingles  smiles  and  tears  on  his  haggard  coun¬ 
tenance.  Would  any  sleep  the  last  night  which 
was  to  precede  it  ?  And  what  a  sight  would 
the  sun  of  that  day  witness  in  his  course  around 
the  earth,  of  prostrate,  grateful,  imploring  mil¬ 
lions  ! 

Such,  it  is  probable,  would  be  the  effect  of 
novelty  in  a  privilege  which,  now,  because  it  is 
always  at  our  command,  is  reluctantly  improved 
by  many,  and  utterly  rejected  by  most.  How 

2 


54 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


absurd,  as  well  as  guilty,  is  sin  !  How  valua¬ 
ble,  though  unvalued,  the  privileges  of  the  gos¬ 
pel  !  A  lost  spirit  would  give  all  worlds  to  be 
placed  in  the  probationary  position  of  a  living 
sinner  ;  and  if  the  hope  of  salvation  were  to  be 
limited  to  one  day,  instead  of  being  continued 
through  years  ;  if,  in  other  words,  to-morrow 
were  to  be  the  judgment,  the  sun  of  this  day 
would  go  down  amid  the  tears  and  prayers  of 
the  world. 

Yet  independently  of  such  illustrations,  and 
depreciated  as  the  privilege  of  prayer  is  by  our 
desultory  familiarity  with  it,  to  what  thoughtful 
mind  does  it  not  present  itself  as  one  of  the 
most  wonderful  and  precious  institutions  of 
religion ! 

Prayer  is  a  reasonable  exercise .  This,  said 
the  preacher,  can  be  best  shown  by  examining 
those  speculative  objections  which  have  been 
preferred  by  skeptics  against  it.  He  examined 
these,  and  refuted  them  thoroughly. 

One,  said  he,  is,  That  prayer  is  inconsistent 
with  the  divine  omniscience.  “  If  God  knows  your 
wants,  and  your  disposition  to  have  them  suppli¬ 
ed,  why  inform  and  importune  him  in  prayer  ?” 
The  objection  proceeds  from  a  misapprehen- 
•  sion  of  the  design  of  prayer.  Its  ostensible  de¬ 
sign  is  indeed  the  attainment  of  the  blessing  for 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


5  5 


which  wo  pray  ;  but  there  is  an  ulterior  and 
higher  object  for  which  it  was  appointed,  namely, 
the  spiritual  influence,  the  disciplinary  effect  of 
the  habit.  The  objection  would  apply  equally 
to  the  other  departments  of  God’s  economy. 
He  could  make  bread  grow  spontaneously,  or 
drop  manna  from  heaven,  but  he  requires  man 
to  toil  for  his  sustenance.  He  could  have  con¬ 
stituted  the  human  mind  so,  that  its  improvement 
might  be  natural,  not  the  result  of  protracted 
study  ;  but  he  has  not,  and  why  ?  because  he 
saw  it  would  be  good  for  man  to  co-operate 
with  himself  in  procuring  improvement  and 
happiness.  The  analogy  applies  equally  to 
religion,  to  prayer.  Hence,  after  predicting  to 
Israel  certain  mercies,  God  still  declares,  “  I 
will  yet  for  this  be  inquired  of  by  the  house  of 
Israel  to  do  it  for  them.”  Man’s  measures  con¬ 
template,  usually,  but  a  specific  object,  God’s 
contemplate  many  at  once.  The  apparent 
design  of  the  sun  is  to  illuminate  the  world, 
“to  rule  the  day;”  but,  on  closer  examination, 
this  is  found  to  be  ordy  one  among  many  of  its 
agencies — while  it  enlightens,  it  also  beautifies 
nature  with  coloring  ;  it  is  essential  to  vege¬ 
tation  ;  it  varies  the  seasons  ;  it  sustains  in  har¬ 
monious  motion  the  stupendous  machinery  of 

our  whole  system.  So  in  God’s  moral  econo- 

2 


56 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


my,  manifold  results,  ostensible  and  ulterior, 
are  accomplished.  Thus  is  it  witn  prayer. 

Another  objection  alledges  that  prayer  is 
inconsistent  with  God’s  immutability.  “  Why 
entreat  and  importune  him  ?  you  cannot  char  ge 
his  immutable  nature.”  Here  is  a  misappre¬ 
hension  of  the  divine  immutability.  God  is 
immutable  in  the  principles  of  his  administra¬ 
tion,  but  not  in  its  acts.  There  was  a  period 
when  he  did  not  create,  one  when  he  did  create, 
and  one  when  “  he  rested  from  all  his  work 
which  he  had  made  he  changed  in  act,  but 
not  in  nature.  The  laws  protect  you  to-day  be¬ 
cause  you  conform  to  them,  to-morrow  they  may 
put  you  to  death  for  transgressing  them  ;  not 
because  they  change — the  change  is  in  your¬ 
self.  So  the  sinner  is  heard  if  he  truly  prays, 
but  lost  if  he  prays  not ;  yet  God  does  not 
change,  it  is  his  ordained  and  immutable  eco¬ 
nomy  that  it  should  be  so. 

It  is  asserted  again  that  the  universe  is 
governed  by  secondary  causes ,  and  in  order  that 
prayer  should  bring  about  results  different  from 
what  would  take  place  without  it,  there  must  be 
an  interference  with — a  suspension  of  those  fixed 
causes  ;  but  we  see  no  such  interference.  The 
objection  assumes  that  we  see  the  whole  series 
of  causes  and  effects  ;  but  that  series,  extending 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


57 


from  the  effect  which  we  observe  up  to  the  first 
cause,  is  immense.  We  notice  but  the  lowest 
links  in  the  chain ;  how  then  can  we  assume  that 
the  higher  ones  are  not  adapted  or  controlled  so 
as  to  meet  this  peculiarity  of  the  moral  system? 
The  last  link  of  the  series  is  in  the  hand  of 
Omnipotence.  Why  may  not  the  divine  energy 
be  transmitted  down  through  the  whole,  with  al¬ 
mighty  power,  and  yet  with  no  interruption  of  the 
successive  links  ;  as  the  electric  energy  passes 
with  quickening  or  overpowering  influence  to 
the  object  at  the  end  of  the  chain,  without  visi¬ 
ble  effect  on  the  intermediate  links  ?  Behold 
the  mighty  machinery  of  the  steamer:  the  effect 
of  a  man’s  hand  can  reverse  its  course,  and  carry 
the  immense  structure  backward,  without  a 
collision  of  the  works  ;  and  cannot  the  Maker 
of  the  worlds  so  control  his  works  as  to  bring 
about,  without  confusion,  results  different  from 
what  our  little  minds  judge  necessary  to  the 
instruments  which  he  has  appointed  ? 

Another  objection  is  our  comparative  insigni¬ 
ficance.  “  Can  it  be  supposed  that  the  infinite 
God  can  stoop  from  amid  all  worlds  to  regard 
our  wants  and  prayers  ?”  Yes,  said  the  preacher, 
the  greatness  of  God,  the  very  ground  of  the 
objection,  is  the  ground  of  our  confidence. 

God  is  infinite ;  were  he  finite,  however  great 

2 


58 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


there  might  be  plausibility  in  the  objection  : 
but  infinite  greatness  implies  that  the  small  as 
well  as  the  great,  the  minutiae  as  well  as  the 
aggregate — that  all  things  are  comprehended 
by  it.  Were  there  a  particle  of  sand  not  per¬ 
vaded  by  God’s  presence,  then  he  would  not 
be  omnipresent.  Did  the  smallest  animalcule 
escape  his  cognizance,  then  he  could  not  be 
omniscient ;  his  Godhead  would  be  destroyed. 
The  arrow  that  misses  the  mark  by  the  distance 
of  an  inch,  misses  it  as  really  as  if  by  a  hundred 
feet.  Infinite  knowledge  implies  the  cognizance 
of  not  merely  the  universe  at  large,  but,  defi¬ 
nitely,  of  every  minute  thing  in  it.  The  sigh 
of  penitence  that  goes  up  from  a  dying  bed,  in 
the  lowliest  hovel,  or  from  the  dungeon  of  the 
prisoner,  enters  into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  God 
of  Sabbaoth,  amid  the  hallelujahs  of  all  the 
heavens.  It  is  noticed  by  him  as  distinctly  as 
if  it  were  the  only  sound  in  his  universe.  It 
is  as  much  the  necessity  as  it  is  the  mercy  of 
God’s  nature  that  a  sparrow  cannot  fall  to  the 
ground  without  his  notice.  Thus,  then,  these 
four  speculative  difficulties  vanish,  and  prayer 
may  be  affirmed  to  be  a  reasonable  exercise. 

Prayer  is  a  salutary  exercise.  It  is  so,  in  the 
first  place,  because  it  is  the  means  of  the  bless¬ 
ings  prayed  for.  Faith  is  the  condition  of  sal- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  59 

vation  ;  it  is  faith  that  is  imputed  for  righteous¬ 
ness  ;  yet  prayer  is  the  expression,  the  vehicle 
of  faith  ;  prayer  is  the  wing  on  which  faith  rises 
to  the  mercy-seat.  The  affirmation  is  as  true 
in  regard  to  prayer  as  it  is  in  regard  to  faith — 
that  no  responsible  sinner  has  ever  been  saved 
without  it.  God  has  not  made  it  one  of  the 
conditions  of  salvation,  yet  it  is  an  inseparable 
appliance  to  those  conditions.  In  the  second 
place,  the  disciplinary  effect  is  salutary.  We 
have  already,  said  the  preacher,  viewed  this 
aspect  of  the  subject,  but  it  is  worthy  of  another 
glance :  “We  find,”  says  a  distinguished  writer, 
“  from  the  whole  course  of  nature,  that  God 
governs  the  world  not  by  independent  acts, 
but  by  a  connected  system.  The  instruments 
which  he  employs  in  the  ordinary  works  of  his 
providence  are  not  physically  necessary  to  his 
operations.  He  might  have  acted  without  them 
if  he  pleased.  He  might,  for  instance,  have  cre¬ 
ated  all  men  without  the  intervention  of  parents ; 
but  where,  then,  had  been  the  beneficial  connec¬ 
tion  between  parents  and  children,  and  the  nu¬ 
merous  advantages  resulting  to  human  society 
from  such  connections  ?  The  difficulty  lies 
here  :  the  uses  arising  from  the  connections  of 
God’s  acts  may  be  various  ;  and  such  are  the 
pregnancies  of  his  works,  that  a  single  act  mav 

2 


60 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


answer  a  prodigious  variety  of  purposes.  Of 
these  several  purposes  we  are,  for  the  most  part, 
ignorant ;  and  from  this  ignorance  are  derived 
most  of  our  weak  objections  against  the  ways 
of  his  providence  ;  while  we  foolishly  presume 
that,  like  human  agents,  he  has  but  one  end  in 
view.”  Now  the  effect  of  prayer,  aside  from 
its  particular  object,  maybe  among  these  several 
purposes.  How  can  it  fail  to  be  thus  salutary, 
when  the  first  impression  it  gives  the  mind  is 
that  of  dependence  ?  If  our  spiritual  blessings 
were  matters  of  course,  and  not  of  condition, 
like  the  blessings  of  light,  air,  or  water,  we 
would  forget,  as  the  world  has  in  regard  to  the 
latter,  the  merciful  agency  of  God  in  conferring 
them.  Prayer,  therefore,  tends  to  humility. 
Gratitude ,  likewise,  is  produced  by  it  in  the 
same  manner.  There  is  no  virtuous  affection 
with  which  it  is  not  congenial.  It  is  serene, 
tranquilizing,  spiritualizing.  It  cannot  consist 
with  sin.  “  Prayer,”  says  one,  “  will  make  us 
either  cease  sinning,  or  sin  make  us  cease 
praying.” 

Prayer  is  a  consolatory  exercise.  Man  has  a 
moral  nature.  His  moral  faculties  are  as  dis¬ 
tinguishable  and  as  constitutional  as  his  physi¬ 
cal  or  intellectual.  His  most  perfect  happi¬ 
ness  consists  in  the  due  gratification  of  all  his 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


61 


faculties.  But  most  of  mankind  limit  this  grati¬ 
fication  to  the  physical  nature.  A  few,  “  of  soul 
more  elevate,”  add  the  pleasures  of  intellect. 
Yet  the  highest  demand  of  our  nature  remains 
manswered.  The  greatest  monsters,  not  only 
)f  crime  but  of  misery,  have  been  sensualists  ; 
md  the  highest  intellectual  powers  have  aided 
mly  in  removing  the  illusions  of  worldly  plea¬ 
sure,  and  overclouding  the  soul  with  disgust  and 
despair,  so  that  a  philosopher  has  said,  that  “  a 
fool  may,  but  a  philosopher  cannot,  be  a  happy 
man.”  Our  moral  wants  are  our  largest,  and 
most  urgent  ones,  and  their  neglect  explains 
the  existence  of  wretchedness  amid  every  other 
gratification — in  the  palace  as  well  as  the  hovel, 
with  the  sovereign  and  the  sage  as  well  as  the 
pauper  and  the  slave.  There  is  a  higher  grati¬ 
fication  than  that  of  sense  ;  there  is  a  higher 
exercise  than  that  of  thought.  It  is  the  satis¬ 
faction  of  the  conscience,  and  the  exercise  of 
the  heart.  God  made  man  for  intercourse  with 
himsell  ;  all  other  exercises  and  enjoyments 
were  to  be  but  secondary  to  thjft.  Prayer  is  the 
means  ot  this  intercourse  ,  its  language  is  the 
converse  of  this  communion. 

But  it  is  consolatory  in  a  second  sense  ;  it  is 
a  source  of  aid  and  security.  The  supplicating 
accents  ot  prayer  are  authoritative  to  command 


62 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


for  our  aid  the  very  attributes  of  the  Deity. 
Prayer  is  the  eloquence  that  persuades  God. 
What  would  be  the  consciousness  of  a  man  in¬ 
vested  with  the  attributes  of  the  Almighty — 
omniscience  to  discern  every  danger,  omnipo¬ 
tence  to  avert  it,  and  a  capability  of  universal 
presence  to  exert  everywhere  his  wisdom  and 
power  for  his  interests  !  How  fearlessly  would 
he  throw  himself  on  every  emergency  !  How 
tranquilly  walk  through  every  peril !  Now  the 
Christian  has  not  these  attributes,  but  his  God 
has,  and  that  God  pledges  their  interference 
for  him,  in  answer  to  prayer,  in  every  case 
where  their  interference  will  be  for  his  inte¬ 
rests  !  that  is,  in  every  case  where  the  Chris¬ 
tian  would  exercise  them  himself,  were  he 
possessed  of  them.  He  may  therefore  feel  as 
secure  as  if  the  powers  of  Godhead  were  at 
his  command  !  These  powers  may  allow  him 
to  suffer,  but  no  more  than  he  himself  would 
allow,  if  he  had  infinite  wisdom  to  discern  the 
propriety  of  such  suffering.  How  sublime  a 
spectacle  is  the  praying  man  in  this  light ! 
The  stars  may  fall  and  the  worlds  pass  away, 
but  he  is  safe,  for  the  power  which  dissolves 
them,  supports  him.  A  devout  mind,  constant 
in  the  habit  of  prayer,  may  acquire  such  a  lively 

sense  of  the  immediate  presence  and  sympathy 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDEN'IS. 


63 


of  God  as  to  exult  in  the  most  trying  danger 
and  be  almost  superior  to  even  the  instinctive 
fears  of  human  nature. 

Prayer  is  a  sublime  exercise.  The  reach  of 
a  mighty  mind,  transcending  the  discoveries  of 
ages,  and  evoking  to  view  new  principles  or 
new  worlds,  is  sublime.  Newton’s  discoveries, 
pushing  human  comprehension  higher  in  the 
series  of  natural  causes  and  effects,  were 
sublime.  But  there  may  be  a  progress  re¬ 
maining,  compared  with  which,  his  discoveries, 
as  he  said  himself,  are  like  the  bubble  com¬ 
pared  with  the  ocean.  But  prayer  sweeps  over 
all  secondary  causes,  and  lays  hold  on  the  first 
cause  ;  it  bends  not  its  flight  to  repose  its  wing 
and  refresh  itself  amid  the  light  of  undiscovered 
worlds,  but  rises  above  the  stars  and  suns,  until 
it  bathes  its  pinions  in  the  light  of  “  the  excellent 
glory.”  To  control  the  tremendous  force  of  the 
elements,  and  reduce  them  to  the  servility  of 
mechanical  operations,  is  a  sublime  achievement 
Men  can  thereby  float  in  palaces  on  seas,  car¬ 
ried  by  whirlwinds  over  fleeing  mountains,  or 
drive  carriages,  burdened  with  armies,  through 
valleys  and  through  hills,  without  animal  effort, 
and  as  swift  almost  as  light.  But  what  is  the 
control  of  the  elements  compared  with  the 
ability  of  prayer  to  call  down  the  powers  :f 

2 


G4 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


heaven,  and  summon  the  agency  of  angels  !  I 
would  be  a  circumstance  of  great  sublimity  for 
a  man  to  be  able  to  transmit  his  thoughts  to  a 
distant  planet,  and  hold  communion  with  its 
inhabitants  ;  but  prayer  aspires  above  all  worlds, 
and  communes  with  Infinite  Mind.  It  rises 
above  every  subordinate  reliance,  and  stops  not 
till  it  throws  itself  into  the  embrace  of  the  Fa¬ 
ther  of  all.  One  of  the  indirect,  but  salutary, 
effects  of  prayer  arises  from  this  sublime  ascen¬ 
sion  of  the  soul  above  all  things  limited,  or  caus¬ 
ed,  to  the  infinite.  It  approaches  God  ;  it  stops 
only  when  all  things  else  are  lost  from  view, 
and  the  effulgence  of  divinity  alone  shines 
“  above,  beneath,  around.”  The  mind  cannot 
but  imbibe  sublimity  from  such  a  scene.  A 
praying  man  ought,  indeed,  to  be  sublime — 
sublime  in  his  sentiments  and  in  his  purposes  ; 
he  holds  perpetual  intercourse  with  all  grandeur. 
If  the  study  of  greatness,  in  its  historical 
examples  ;  if  association  with  living  men  of 
greatness  ;  if  the  intercourse  of  archangels, 
could  tend  to  enlarge  and  elevate  our  senti¬ 
ments,  how  much  more  ought  the  habitual 
contemplation  and  communion  of  God  to  im¬ 
prove  us  ! 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


65 


MOTHER  SUMA  AND  THE  WEALTHY  CONVERT. 

“  The  elect  lady.” — John. 

A  number  of  years  ago,  when  the  now  vene¬ 
rable  Bishop  H - was  stationed  in  Boston, 

he  was  surprised  one  morning  by  the  call,  at  the 
parsonage,  of  a  lady  whose  costly  dress,  and 
elegant  manners,  indicated  that  she  belonged  to 
the  highest  circles  of  the  polished  society  of 
that  polished  city.  He  was  still  more  surprised 
when,  after  the  usual  introductory  phrases,  she 
made  known,  with  language  direct  and  decided, 
her  wish  to  unite  with  the  humble  society  under 
his  charge.  She  gave  him  her  name,  and  the 
highest  references  in  the  city,  for  information 
respecting  her,  and  retired  with  an  earnest  re¬ 
quest,  that  he  would  consider  the  application  till 
she  should  be  able  to  have  another  interview. 

This  lady  was  a  near  relative  of  the  cele¬ 
brated  John  Hancock,  whose  name  stands  so 
prominently  on  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
and  in  the  history  of  his  country.  At  the 
time  of  her  visit  at  the  Methodist  parsonage 
she  was  surrounded  with  all  the  resources  and 
gayeties  of  her  high  .sphere  in  life  ;  but  that 
blessed  Spirit,  which  “is  given  to  all  men,”  had 
been  striving  with  her  mind,  and  had  made  use 
Vol.  IT. — 5 


6o 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


of  an  instrumentality  to  lead  her  to  the  church, 
and  to  heaven,  so  remarkable  as  to  deserve  no¬ 
tice  and  commemoration.  While  living  in  luxury, 
with  no  higher  notions  of  religion  than  those 
afforded  by  the  fashionable  Unitarianism  of  the 
day,  the  providence  of  God  placed  in  her  family 
a  devoted  Methodist  servant-maid,  to  whom 
was  afterward  added  also,  in  occasional  ser¬ 
vice  in  the  household,  a  pious  colored  woman, 
of  the  same  denomination. 

The  religious  example  and  converse  of  these 
humble  Christians  could  not  escape  the  obser¬ 
vation  of  the  lady  of  the  house  ;  they  were  un¬ 
ostentatious  ministries  which  God  had  placed 
there,  and  with  the  exercise  of  which  he  honors 
his  lowliest  saints,  while  he  withholds  it  from 
the  angels  of  heaven.  Their  mistress  became 
interested  and  thoughtful ;  she  picked  up  one  of 
their  books  ;  it  was  a  volume  of  Wesley’s  Ser¬ 
mons.  She  opened  at  the  discourse  on  “  The 
Witness  of  the  Spirit what  a  mystical  phrase ! 
She  had  never  heard  of  it  in  her  own  church  ; 
but  on  reading  the  text  it  appeared  obviously  a 
proper — a  Scriptural  title.  She  read  the  ser¬ 
mon  through  ;  it  poured  a  flood  of  light  upon 
her  neglected  spirit ;  if  this  was  religion,  she 
had  never  known  it  by  experience.  She  read 
the  whole  volume  :  it  explained  to  her,  for  the 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  67 

first  time  in  her  life,  the  true  character  of  per¬ 
sonal  piety,  and  led  her  to  the  mercy-seat  to 
seek  it.  Her  deep  and  anxious  convictions  of 
sin  were  revealed  to  her  devoted  servants,  and 
these  lowly  children  of  God,  while  laboring  in 
her  kitchen,  became  her  instructors  and  guides 
in  the  way  to  heaven.  She  longed  to  hear  a 
genuine  minister  of  Christ  who  preached  these 
new  truths,  and  several  evenings  might  be  seen 
this  votary  of  the  fashionable  world,  still  array¬ 
ed  in  her  gay  apparel,  following  at  a  short  dis¬ 
tance,  and  with  a  throbbing  heart,  her  humble 
colored  servant  to  the  Methodist  chapel.  There 
she  heard  the  same  truths  vivified  by  the  living 
voice  ;  their  impression  on  her  conscience  was 
deepened  ;  she  sought  with  all  her  soul  the  par¬ 
doning  mercy  of  God.  In  a  few  weeks  she 
was  “justified  by  faith,  and  had  peace  with 
God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.” 

She  had  thus  far  kept  her  exercises  of  mind 
a  profound  secret,  known  only  to  herself  and 
her  pious  servants  ;  she  felt  now  that  it  was  her 
duty,  and  her  only  safety,  to  openly  confess 
Christ,  and  associate  herself  with  his  people. 
Too  precious  were  the  new  truths  and  new  sym¬ 
pathies  which  had  dawned  upon  her  soul  to  al¬ 
low  her  to  seek  a  fashionable  religious  commu¬ 
nion,  where  the  reproach  of  the  cross  might  be 

2 


68 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


evaded ;  the  humble  but  devoted  people,  whose 
agency  had  reached  her,  and  led  her  to  “  the 
Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of 
the  world,”  were  her  decided  choice,  and  she 
called  upon  their  pastor,  as  stated,  to  solicit 
admission  to  their  lowly  fellowship. 

In  a  few  days  she  visited  him  again  :  he  had 
consulted  her  references,  and  ascertained  her 
high  family  relations  and  excellent  character. 
No  misfortune,  or  eccentricity  of  mind,  could 
account  for  her  decided  predilection  for  the 
Methodist  Church.  She  had  been  renewed  in 
spirit,  had  consecrated  herself  to  God,  and  in¬ 
tent  only  on  the  salvation  of  her  soul,  resolved 
to  place  herself  amid  such  religious  associations 
as  would  most  effectually  enable  her  to  work 
out  her  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,  and 
she  justly  inferred  that  the  obscurity  and  poverty 
of  the  then  little  Methodist  band  would  but 
render  her  connection  with  them  a  more  ex¬ 
emplary  proof  of  her  love  of  their  Redeemer, 
and  increase  her  facilities  for  usefulness.  Mr 
II.  informed  her  that  there  could  be  no  objection 
to  her  reception  among  them  ;  but  assured  her 
of  the  disparity  between  her  circumstances  and 
habits  and  those  of  most  of  his  people.  He 
explained  to  her  also  the  disciplinary  rules  of 
dress. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  09 

Her  reply  was,  that  she  had  read  the  Disci¬ 
pline  ;  had  counted  the  cost,  and  was  ready  to 
conform  to  it.  She  was  afterward  publicly  re¬ 
ceived  at  the  altar  of  the  church,  attired  in  that 
chaste  and  beautiful  simplicity  which  our  Dis¬ 
cipline  and  the  spirit  of  our  religion  require, 
and,  above  all,  with  that  spirit  of  meekness, 
that  beauty  of  holiness,  which  form  the  loveli¬ 
ness  of  piety  on  earth,  and  of  angels  in  heaven. 

She  was  ever  after  distinguished  by  eminent 
piety,  and  all  its  graceful  fruits.  In  the  church 
she  found,  as  she  had  calculated,  a  useful  field 
for  her  talents  and  resources.  Her  time  was 
devoted  to  unostentatious  charities.  Not  long 
after  her  remarkable  change,  the  decease  of  her 
husband  placed  a  large  fortune  entirely  at  her 
own  command.  She  then  consecrated  herself  to 
more  abundant  usefulness  ;  the  poor,  the  sick, 
the  widow,  and  the  fatherless,  and  all  the  be¬ 
nevolent  claims  of  the  church,  were  the  objects 
of  her  sympathy  and  liberality.  Thus  rejoicing 
in  the  hope  of  the  glory  of  God  herself,  and  dis¬ 
pensing  happiness  all  around  her,  life  became 
to  her  a  scene  of  the  purest  blessedness.  Ah, 
if  the  rich  and  the  fashionable  who,  with  sati¬ 
ated  tastes  and  aching  hearts,  are  ever  turning 
from,  and  anon  returning  to,  the  hollow  gayeties 
of  the  world,  could  discern  the  serene  enjoy- 

2 


70 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


ment  of  the  heart  which  throbs  only  to  serve 
God  and  bless  man,  how  would  the  attractions 
of  frivolous  pleasure  change  to  disgust ! 

For  three  years  after  the  death  of  her  hus¬ 
band  did  this  Christian  lady  thus  minister,  like 
an  angel  of  mercy,  to  the  necessities  of  the  sick 
and  the  poor.  At  the  end  of  this  period  her 
Lord  called  her  to  her  reward.  Peacefully  and 
with  holy  joy  she  passed  to  the  society  of  the 
good  above,  with  the  tears  and  blessings  of  those 
who,  in  humbleness  of  life,  but  with  true  hearts, 
had  loved  in  her  the  similitude  of  their  Lord.  But 
if  to  do  is  to  live,  her  life  did  not  end  with  her 
death.  In  dying  she  provided  for  its  continu¬ 
ance.  One  who  has  narrated  the  interesting 
facts  of  her  short  but  devoted  pilgrimage,  says, 
“  that  she  appropriated  in  her  will  a  liberal  share 
of  her  estate  to  various  benevolent  and  religious 
objects.”  To  the  minister  who  had  received 
her  into  the  church,  and  to  his  colleague,  she 
left  valuable  legacies,  and  to  the  church  itself 
a  perpetual  fund  for  the  use  of  the  poor. 

For  the  above  facts  I  am  indebted  chiefly  ,o 
the  narrative  mentioned  ;  but  it  was  my  lot  per¬ 
sonally  to  witness  another  incident  which  per¬ 
tains  to  the  sketch.  Many  years  after  the  de¬ 
parture  of  this  “  elect,  lady,”  the  providence  of 

God  placed  me  in  the  pastoral  charge  of - - 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  71 

church.  Though  composed  of  several  hundred 
members,  devoted  and  respectable,  I  found  none 
more  esteemed  than  an  humble  old  colored 
woman,  called  mother  Suma.  Such  was  the 
purity  of  her  Christian  reputation,  sustained 
through  a  long  pilgrimage,  that  it  was  justly 
appreciated  as  the  common  and  personal  pro¬ 
perty  of  the  whole  church.  Tranquil  and  uni¬ 
form  in  her  piety,  faithful  through  many  years 
in  every  duty  enjoined  by  the  church,  singularly 
useful  in  her  sphere,  and  exhibiting  always  those 
gentle  affections  so  characteristic  of  the  Afri¬ 
can  character,  her  color  and  caste  seemed  for¬ 
gotten  in  a  community  where  they  were  usually 
strongly  distinguished ;  she  was  more  than  re¬ 
spected,  she  was  beloved.  Not  long  after  my 
arrival  she  died  in  great  peace.  I  officiated  at 
her  funeral.  On  entering  her  small  rooms,  no  one 
could  fail  to  notice  the  impress  of  the  good  wo¬ 
man’s  mind,  everything  was  clean  and  extremely 
neat,  instinct  with  that  expression  of  homely 
comfort  so  congenial  to  the  tastes  of  pious  old 
age.  Here  had  been  her  retired  sanctuary,  the 
scene  of  her  daily  meditations  and  prayers, 
where  she  daily  expected  her  Lord  and  his 
ministering  angels,  and  it  seemed  in  its  whole 
interior  aspect  to  have  been  fitted  for  their  re¬ 
ception  The  aged  saint  lay,  in  her  coffin,  in 

2 


72 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  midst  of  it.  I  was  affected  to  see  the  inte¬ 
rest  of  all  classes  to  pay  her  memory  the  last 
acts  of  respect.  The  rooms  were  crowded, 
and  throngs  stood  around  the  door  unable  to 
enter.  The  young  were  there,  who  had  felt 
themselves  instructed  by  the  lessons  of  her  holy 
life  ;  the  veterans  of  the  church,  who  had  jour¬ 
neyed  heavenward  with  her  from  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  their  pilgrimage,  wept  around  her  re¬ 
mains  ;  the  choir,  with  their  chorister,  were 
there  to  sing  the  adieus  of  the  church  to  the 
emancipated  spirit  which  had  escaped  from  its 
earthly  sufferings  ;  and  as  we  spoke  of  her  ex¬ 
cellences,  and  prayed  that  her  memory  might  be 
as  a  sweet  savor  among  us,  manv  hearts  felt 
how  beautiful  is  a  holy  life  in  even  the  lowliest 
vale  of  earth,  and  how  serenely  pleasant  its  end, 
and  how  hallowed  its  memory.  More  genuine 
regards  accompanied  that  daughter  of  Ethiopia 
to  the  grave  than  attend  the  departure  of  nobles 
or  monarchs. 

The  reader  will  share  my  interest  in  this 
humble  saint,  when  I  tell  him  that  mother  Suma 
was  the  colored  servant  who  had  guided  the 
wealthy  convert  of  the  Hancock  family  to  the 
Methodist  chapel.  As  an  aged  member  of  the 
church  was  relating  the  fact  to  me,  another 

who  stood  by,  one  of  its  stewards,  remarked, 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


73 


that  “  the  providence  of  God  had  singularly 
blessed  the  zeal  of  the  pious  African  to  her  own 
advantage  ;  that  during  the  later  and  helpless 
years  of  her  life  she  had  been  comfortably  sus¬ 
tained  by  aid  from  the  proceeds  of  the  fund  left 
by  the  very  lady  whom  she  had  thus  led  into 
the  path  of  life  !  Every  month,”  he  continued, 
“  for  a  long  time,  have  I  carried  to  her  humble 
home  the  bounty  of  her  deceased  friend.” 

How  marvelously  does  the  providence  of  God 
sometimes  use  the  feeblest  means  for  the  noblest 
ends  !  Despise  not  the  day  of  small  things  ;  for 
“  the  excellency  of  the  power  is  of  God  and  not 
of  men.”  And  remember  that  in  blessing  others 
we  bless  ourselves  ;  in  this  life  we  reap  a  re¬ 
ward  often,  in  the  next  invariably. 

2 


i 


74 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


DOCTRINAL  CHARACTER  OF  METHODISM 
•'  The  apostles'  doctrine." — Acts  ii,  42. 

Methodism  was  providentially  distinguished 
as  the  instrument  of  reviving,  in  the  church,  the 
most  important  doctrines  of  spiritual  religion. 
It  called  the  attention  of  the  Christian  world 
anew  to  three  great  principles  which  compre¬ 
hend  the  experimental  divinity  of  the  Scriptures, 
relating  respectively  to  the  nature ,  extent ,  and 
evidence  of  personal  piety,  viz.,  the  doctrines  of 
justification  hy  faith ,  sanctification ,  and  the  wit¬ 
ness  of  the  Spirit.  These  were  the  great  im¬ 
port  of  the  ministry  of  Wesley  and  his  coadju¬ 
tors.  They  started  not  with  the  project  of  a 
new  sect :  this,  with  the  disciplinary  system 
upon  which  it  was  based,  was  an  unexpected 
result  :  they  were  intent  only  upon  shaking  out 
of  their  slumbers  existing  sects,  and  replenish¬ 
ing  the  popular  mind  of  Great  Britain  with  the 
efficacious  truths  of  the  original  faith. 

The  great  truth  of  justification  by  faith,  which, 
under  Luther,  startled  Europe  from  its  sleep  of 
superstition,  and  produced  the  Reformation,  was 
the  head  and  front  of  Wesley’s  offending.  The 
sermons  of  the  day,  in  the  national  church, 

taught  baptism  as  the  means  of  regeneration. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  75 

After  the  sacramental  initiation  to  the  church, 
all  that  was  considered  requisite  for  salvation 
was  a  theoretical  belief,  and  an  observance  of 
the  forms  and  moralities  of  religion.  Hence, 
when  Wesley  preached  regeneration  as  a  real 
and  conscious  change,  effected  by  a  supernatu¬ 
ral  influence,  and  procured  by  faith  alone,  he 
was  rejected  from  the  pulpits  of  London,  and 
driven  to  the  streets  and  fields.  The  tenet  of 
sanctification,  so  explicitly  taught  and  distin¬ 
guished  in  the  Scriptures,  was  involved  in  con¬ 
fusion.  Its  real  character  was  unknown,  and 
it  was  represented  as  anterior  to  justification. 
The  doctrine  of  the  witness  of  the  Spirit,  in  its 
legitimate  form,  was  denounced  as  unscriptural, 
and  the  offspring  of  spiritual  presumption. 

These  were  the  particular  doctrines  insisted 
on  by  Wesley  ;  but  in  reviving  these  he  aimed 
at  a  general  restoration  of  every  department  of 
experimental  and  practical  religion  to  its  primi¬ 
tive  efficacy  and  vigor.  He  distinguished  true 
piety  from  forms  and  morals,  by  declaring  it  to 
be  spiritual  and  miraculous ;  a  principle  of  in¬ 
ward,  fervid  life,  attesting  its  divine  efficacy  by 
effects  so  immediate,  so  profound,  and  so  uni¬ 
form,  under  every  diversity  of  circumstances, 
as  to  be  unquestionably  preternatural.  By  scat¬ 
tering  thus  the  elements  of  personal  piety,  he 

2 


76 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


expected  to  restore  the  life  of  public  worship, 
and  kindle  afresh  the  smothered  fires  of  the 
church  altar. 

In  the  supernatural  character  of  Christianity 
consists  its  grand  peculiarity;  here  is  its  con¬ 
trast  with  all  ethical  systems,  and  with  natural 
religion.  They  but  teach  the  rules  and  present 
the  motives  of  virtue  ;  this  affords  the  strength 
which  is  necessary  for  their  practical  use — a 
strength  which  is  extraneous — which,  in  the 
sublime  language  of  Scripture,  “  is  sent  down 
from  heaven.”  It  is  this  character  of  Christi¬ 
anity  that  mankind  are  most  reluctant  to  con¬ 
cede,  and  most  inclined  to  forget.  This  is  its 
fanaticism,  its  “  foolishness,”  and  yet  the  ra¬ 
tional  consistency  of  the  whole  system  depends 
upon  this  feature.  Its  fundamental  truth,  the 
inveterate  depravity  of  our  nature,  which  is 
likewise  taught  us  by  natural  religion,  requires 
this  counterpart ;  the  practical  requirements  of 
Christianity  would  be  impracticable  and  absurd 
without  it.  While,  therefore,  the  foolishly  wise 
discover  matter  of  scorn  in  this  view  of  religion, 
to  the  wisely  foolish  it  exhibits  the  icisdom  as 
well  as  the  power  of  God,  and  gives  harmony 
to  the  whole  analogy  of  faith.  History  has  de¬ 
monstrated  that  the  forms  of  Christianity  may  ex¬ 
ist,  in  general  vogue,  among  a  community  whose 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  77 

actual  condition  is  hardly  above  that  of  the  hea¬ 
then  :  that  it  may  advance,  almost  to  perfec¬ 
tion,  the  civilization  of  a  people,  with  scarcely 
any  improvement  of  their  morals  ;  and  in  every 
such  state  of  society  it  will  be  found  that  the 
purely  spiritual  traits  of  Christianity,  those  that 
particularly  belong  to  experimental  theology, 
are  lost  sight  of.  This  was  the  case  at  the 
period  of  the  origin  of  Methodism.  Read  Wes¬ 
ley’s  own  testimony  made  to  the  age.  He 
says  :  “  A  total  ignorance  of  God  is  univeral 
among  us.  The  exceptions  are  exceeding  few, 
whether  among  the  learned  or  unlearned.  High 
and  low,  cobblers,  tinkers,  hackney  coachmen, 
men  and  maid  servants,  soldiers,  sailors,  trades¬ 
men  of  all  ranks,  lawyers,  physicians,  gentle¬ 
men,  lords,  are  as  ignorant  of  the  true  God  as 
Mohammedans  or  pagans.” 

The  chief  reason  for  that  great  moral  deteri¬ 
oration  which  followed  the  restoration  of  the 
Stuarts  was  the  absence  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  experimental  Christianity  in  the 
church.  The  vital  doctrines  of  the  Reformation 
were  almost  entirely  omitted  from  the  popular 
inculcation  of  religion.  These  doctrines  are 
inwrought  into  the  very  texture  of  the  national 
Liturgy ;  they  were  enunciated  in  its  beautiful 

service  weekly,  and  in  many  places  daily. 

2 


78 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


They  had  consoled,  in  the  fires  of  martyrdom, 
the  fathers  of  the  English  Church ;  but  they 
had  become  sounds  without  significance.  They 
were  not  distinctly  exhibited  in  the  preaching 
of  the  day,  and  the  devotions  of  the  desk  were 
counteracted  by  the  discourses  of  the  pulpit. 
The  ignorance  of  the  clergy  in  the  knowledge 
of  their  profession  was  incredible,  if  we  can 
receive  Burnet’s  evidence. 

Some  of  the  best  theologians  of  the  English 
Church  existed  during  the  period  under  review  ; 
but  they  were  exceptions  to  the  general  charac¬ 
ter  of  the  ministry.  The  theological  student 
cannot  but  observe  the  difference  between  the 
writings  of  even  such  men  as  Waterland,  Bull, 
and  Tillotson,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Homi¬ 
lies,  the  wholesome  evangelic  productions  of 
the  reformers,  Cranmer,  Ridley,  Latimer,  and 
Jewel,  on  the  other.  Whitefield  published  a 
sermon  on  regeneration,  which  called  forth 
numerous  replies,  all  of  which  show  that,  how¬ 
ever  explicit  the  doctrine  may  be  in  the  stand¬ 
ards  of  the  church,  it  was  not  known  experiment¬ 
ally,  nor  theoretically,  by  many  of  the  clergy. 
One  of  these  declares  “  that,  to  tell  Christians 
they  must  be  born  again,  who,  in  the  soundest 
sense,  were  born  again  [i.  e.  baptized]  in  their 

infancy,  is,  to  say  the  least,  a  great  impropriety.” 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


79 


“  The  church  supposes  they  have  already  been 
bom  again,  and  she  does  not  command  them  to 
be  baptized,  or  born  again,  a  second  time.” 
These  are  assertions  from  a  “  fellow  of  Clare- 
hall,  Cambridge.”  A  sermon  was  published 
by  Dr.  Stebbing,  chaplain  in  ordinary  to  the 
king,  against  Whitefield,  in  which  he  endea¬ 
vors  to  prove  that  regeneration  is  but  another 
word  for  “  the  new  man,”  and  the  latter  but  a 
figurative  name  of  “  practical  righteousness.” 
This  sermon  was  indorsed  and  sent  to  White- 
field  by  the  bishop  of  Gloucester.  In  his  reply 
to  the  bishop’s  letter  he  justly  says  that  the  au¬ 
thor  “  seems  to  know  nothing  more  of  the  true 
nature  of  regeneration  than  Nicodemus  did 
when  he  came  to  Jesus  by  night.”  The  bishop 
of  London,  (Gibson,)  in  a  pastoral  letter,  ac¬ 
cused  the  Methodists  of  “  professing  to  plant  and 
propagate  a  new  gospel,  unknown  to  the  gene¬ 
rality  of  ministers  and  people  in  a  Christian 
country.”  The  charge  referred  to  justification 
by  faith,  and  no  doubt  the  bishop’s  testimony 
can  be  relied  on,  that  it  was  “  unknown  to  the 
generality  of  ministers  and  people.”  Indeed, 
many  of  the  leading  prelates  of  the  day  entered 
the  lists  against  Wesley  and  Whitefield,  and 
most  of  them  opposed  the  very  doctrines  which 

are  now  received  as  vital  in  the  Christian  sys- 

2 


80  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

tem.  “  Gibson  compromised  the  apostolic  doc¬ 
trine  of  regeneration  ;  Lavington  caricatured  it , 
Smallbroke  all  but  denied  the  work  of  the  Spi¬ 
rit,  and  Warburton  evaporated  divine  influence.”* 
To  the  reformers  of  Oxford,  therefore/  the  Chris¬ 
tian  world  owes,  in  a  great  measure,  the  revival 
of  those  cardinal  truths  which  the  church  has 
subsequently  distinguished  as  pre-eminent,  by 
calling  them  evangelical.  It  was  the  vitality 
of  these  truths  that  rendered  so  efficacious  their 
ministry,  and  that  still  quickens  all  evangelical 
Christendom.  Being  the  apostolic  doctrines ,  they 
reproduced  the  apostolic  spirit ,  and,  since  the 
date  of  Methodism,  the  primitive  idea  of  mis¬ 
sions  has  reappeared.  Indeed,  nearly  all  the 
plans  of  Christian  enterprise,  which  now  en¬ 
gage  the  attention  of  the  church,  have  been 
adopted  since.  The  Bible,  the  Sunday  school, 
the  tract,  the  temperance  societies,  as  well  as 
the  principal  missionary  schemes  of  the  church, 
have  subsequently  arisen.  I  do  not  assume  that 
we  owe  them  directly  to  Wesley,  but  that  they 
sprung  from  the  revival  of  the  vital  doctrines  of 
Christianity :  that  Wesley  was  the  leading  agent 
in  this  revival,  and  Methodism  its  organized 
form. 

Salvation,  free,  full ,  immediate ,  attainable  by 
*  Philip’s  Life  of  Whitefield. 


2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


81 


all,  and  experimentally  known,  these  are  the 
substance  of  Methodist  theology.  They  are 
wholesome  doctrines,  and  very  full  of  comfort ; 
blessed  be  God  that  we  know  them,  and  are 
commissioned  to  spread  them  through  our  sinful 
and  sorrowful  world.  Let  us  preach,  and  empha¬ 
size,  and  reiterate  these  truths  ;  they  are  full 
of  gracious  efficacy  ;  the  common  sense  of  men 
will  recognize  them  as  the  appropriate  tenets  of 
God’s  word,  and  their  anxious  spirits  will  find 
in  them  repose.  Some  of  us  have  the  impres¬ 
sion  that  our  special  work  is  done  ;  that  other 
evangelical  churches  have  become  revived ; 
and  have  so  far  adopted  our  views  of  experi¬ 
mental  religion  as  that  we  need  no  longer  feel 
the  peculiar  responsibility  for  the  spread  of 
these  views,  which  devolved  upon  our  fathers. 
Would  that  it  were  so ;  but  we  fear  that  it  is 
far  otherwise.  We  acknowledge  that  they 
have  generally  approximated  our  standard,  but 
they  have  not  yet  reached  it.  They  believe 
more  than  formerly  in  spiritual  confidence  and 
a  higher  standard  of  piety  ;  but  in  how  many 
of  their  vestry  meetings  can  you  hear  the  laity 
declaring  their  assurance  that  “  the  Spirit  itself 
beareth  witness  with  their  spirits  that  they  are 
the  children  of  God,”  or  that  the  blood  of  Christ 
“  cleanseth  them  from  all  unrighteousness  ?” 

Vol.  II.— 6 


82 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


In  Methodist  prayer  meetings  these  are  the 
perpetual  topics  ;  in  other  churches  they  are 
scarcely  matters  of  allusion.  Two  of  what  we 
consider  vital  truths  of  religion  are  yet  almost 
peculiar  to  us,  namely,  the  witness  of  the  Spirit, 
and  Christian  perfection.  While  we  lamen 
that  they  are  not  received  by  other  churches* 
let  us  rejoice  that  they  are  household  senti¬ 
ments  among  ourselves,  and  bear  in  mind  that 
on  us  devolves  the  responsibility  of  spreading 
them.  While  these  views  are  peculiar  to  Me 
thodism,  it  will  be  a  peculiar  privilege  to  be  a 
Methodist,  and  those  who  owe  to  the  Methodist 
Church  their  conversion,  and  yet  join  other  com  • 
munions,  from  the  impression  that  all  are  now 
alike  evangelical,  mistake  seriously.  The  late 
Dr.  Fisk,  though,  while  in  a  backslidden  state., 
strongly  inclined  to  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church,  felt,  when  he  received  the  blessing  of 
“  perfect  love,”  the  precious  privilege  of  mem¬ 
bership  in  a  church  where  this  doctrine  was 
taught.  “  O,  my  brother,”  he  writes,  “  1  could 
write  pages  on  this  subject,  but  I  must  forbear. 
I  thank  God  that  I  ever  saw  this  day.  I  love 
our  church  better  than  ever.  How  glad  am  I 
that  I  never  left  it,  and  how  thankful  that  they 
never  cast  me  off  when  backslidden  from  the 

cause  !” — Life ,  p.  73. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


83 


THE  PRAYING  MOTHER. 

‘  He  heareth  the  'prayer  of  the  righteous .” — Solomon. 

Mrs.  L.  is  a  remnant  of  the  first  generation 
jf  Methodists  in  B.  She  is  still  wending  her 
heavenward  pilgrimage,  after  many  years  of 
trial  and  change.  Her  husband  was  a  sea 
captain,  of  French  origin,  a  Catholic  in  his 
earlier  religious  education,  but  a  decided  skep¬ 
tic  in  his  maturer  years,  tolerating,  with  affa¬ 
bility,  the  religious  opinions  of  others,  but  utterly 
reckless  of  his  own. 

Mrs.  L.  consecrated  her  house  to  God  ;  she 
erected  the  family  altar  and  guarded  its  hallow¬ 
ed  fire  with  the  fidelity  of  a  vestal  priestess. 
Even  her  infidel  husband  was  compelled  to  ad¬ 
mire  her  Christian  integrity,  and  during  his  stay 
at  home,  as  well  as  his  absence  on  the  seas,  she 
faithfully  gathered  her  little  ones  in  daily  do¬ 
mestic  worship.  Skeptic  as  he  was,  he  felt  that 
that  family  altar  shed  a  cheering  and  hallowed 
light  on  his  hearth-stones,  that  it  was  a  moral 
mooring  to  his  household  during  his  frequent 
and  long  absence — an  affecting,  though,  it  might 
be,  an  illusive  reminiscence  of  their  early  home 
to  his  children,  when,  in  after  years,  they  might 

be  dispersed  in  the  world.  Nay,  often,  in  for- 

2 


84 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


eign  ports,  amid  the  dissipated  scenes  of  a  sai¬ 
lor’s  life,  did  strange  and  affecting  images  of 
that  home  worship,  the  supplications  and  tears 
of  his  wife  and  little  ones  for  their  wandering 
father,  pass  over  his  memory,  and  often,  in  the 
perilous  extremity  of  the  night  storm,  did  the 
trembling  unbeliever  bethink  himself  that  the 
evening  prayer  had  gone  up  from  affectionate 
hearts  for  him,  and  that  good  might  it  be  with 
him  if  there  should  be  a  God  to  hear  it. 

Home,  how  salutary  are  its  memories  when 
sanctified  by  virtue  !  How  do  its  dear  images — 
the  faces  of  sisters  and  brothers,  fathers  and 
mothers,  though  long  since  in  the  grave — follow 
the  wanderer  over  the  world,  like  the  presence 
of  blessed  angels,  ever  and  anon  revealing  them¬ 
selves  to  his  view  as  they  hover  over  him  with 
looks  of  sweet  complacency  or  tender  rebuke  ! 
Melancholy  is  the  privation  of  those  who  have  no 
such  ministering  memories,  the  record  of  whose 
homes,  written  on  the  heart,  is  only  of  estrange¬ 
ment  and  sorrow. 

Mrs.  L.  believed  not  only  in  the  moral  influ¬ 
ence  of  domestic  religion,  but  in  the  direct  an¬ 
swer,  sooner  or  later,  of  her  prayers  in  behalf 
of  her  husband  and  children.  Years  passed 
away  without  the  realization  of  her  hopes  ;  but 

she  persevered,  humbly  and  hopefully,  at  her 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


85 


altar,  till  God  answered  her,  though  in  a  way 
she  could  not  have  anticipated.  He  blessed 
her  by  misfortune.  She  had  occasion  to  cor¬ 
rect  her  son  one  day  by  confining  him  to  his 
chamber.  The  boy  escaped  by  a  window,  and 
could  not  be  found.  Days  passed  away,  weeks 
and  months  elapsed,  and  no  intimation  of  the 
missing  child  was  heard.  The  mother,  wrung 
with  anguish,  still  clung  to  the  domestic  altar. 
Misgivings,  painful  misgivings,  met  her  there 
during  these  anxious  months.  Had  she  not 
had  reason  to  expect  a  different  effect  on  her 
children  from  her  efforts  in  their  religious  edu¬ 
cation  ?  Had  God  disregarded  her  supplica¬ 
tions  ?  Was  it  in  vain  that  she  planned  and 
prayed,  and  wept  before  him  for  them  ?  Ah  ! 
who  has  not  had  such  assaults  of  the  adversary 
in  dark  hours  ?  But  “  trust  in  the  Lord,  and 
wait  patiently  for  him.”  Know  ye  not  that 
adverse  providences  are  God’s  most  common 
means  of  blessing  ?  that  he  has  led  the  church 
through  the  world,  and  his  individual  saints  up 
to  heaven  in  triumph,  by  them  ?  Her  boy  was 
wandering,  she  knew  not  where  ;  but  God’s 
providence  was  following  him,  and  leading  him 
to  his  salvation. 

He  had  embarked  in  a  vessel,  and  after  a  long 
voyage  arrived  in  Charleston,  South  Carolina. 

2 


86  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

Here  he  remained,  destitute  and  dependent, 
several  weeks  ;  but  at  the  moment  of  his  extre¬ 
mity  his  father  arrived  unexpectedly  in  the 
harbor,  from  Havre,  France.  The  boy,  sub¬ 
dued  by  reflection  and  sorrow,  flew  to  the  arms 
of  his  parent,  confessing  his  misconduct  with 
tears.  The  juvenile  romance  of  adventure  had 
died  in  his  bosom,  but  the  tender  remembrance 
of  his  home  still  lived,  melting  his  young  heart, 
and  disposing  him  to  return  to  its  deserted  altar, 
and  mingle  there  his  tears  with  those  of  a  mo¬ 
ther’s  anxiety  and  love 

The  vessel  sailed  for  Havana.  It  arrived  at  a 
time  when  the  yellow  fever  raged  in  the  city.  In 
a  few  days  the  poor  boy,  predisposed  perhaps 
by  his  anxieties  and  grief,  was  attacked  by  the 
dreadful  malady.  And  now  revived,  in  over¬ 
powering  force,  the  recollections  of  his  early 
religious  instructions.  The  confused  reveries 
of  a  fevered  brain  could  not  dispel  them.  The 
atonement,  the  duty  of  repentance  and  faith,  the 
terrors  of  death,  judgment,  and  hell,  were  ever 
present  to  his  mind.  Ah  !  even  in  this  extrem¬ 
ity  the  prayers  of  the  desolate  mother  were 
prevailing  in  heaven. 

One  day,  when  all  hope  of  his  recovery  had 
gone,  the  father,  a  man  of  strong  feelings,  en¬ 
tered,  with  a  broken  spirit,  the  chamber  where 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


67 


he  lay.  The  dying  boy,  with  his  tears  drop¬ 
ping  upon  the  pillow,  was  sobbing  the  name  of 
his  mother  :  “  My  mother  !  my  dear  mother ! 
O,  that  she  were  here  to  pray  for  me  as  she 
used  to  !” 

The  father  bent  over  him,  unable,  for  a  time, 
to  speak,  but  mingling  his  tears  with  those  of 
his  son.  Clasping  his  trembling  hands,  and 
casting  a  look  of  appalling  earnestness  at  his 
parent,  the  boy  exclaimed,  “  Father,  I  am  dying 
with  my  sins  upon  me  !  I  shall  be  lost  in  my 
present  state !  Send,  O  send  for  some  one  to 
pray  for  me  !” 

“  My  child,”  replied  the  father,  trembling 
with  emotion,  “  there  are  none  but  Catholic 
clergymen  on  the  island,  and  they  cannot  help 
you.” 

“  0,  what  shall  I  do,  then,  father  V*  exclaim¬ 
ed  the  son. 

“  Pray  for  yourself,  my  dear  child,”  replied 
the  father,  unwilling  to  repose  the  destiny  of 
his  son  on  his  own  infidel  views  of  the  future. 

“  I  do,”  replied  the  boy ;  “  but  I  need  the 
help  of  others  ;  0,  can  you  not,  will  you  not, 
pray  yourself  for  your  perishing  son,  father  ?” 

The  captain  felt  as  if  the  earth  shook  beneath 
him.  He  had  never  prayed  in  his  life  :  but  his 
heart  melted  over  his  child ;  he  felt,  as  by  con- 

2 


88  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

•  •  # 

sciousness,  the  necessity  and  truth  of  religion. 
He  felt  that  none  but  a  God  could  meet  this 
terrible  emergency  of  man.  As  if  smitten  down, 
he  fell  on  his  knees  by  the  bedside  of  his  son. 
His  spirit  was  broken  ;  his  tears  'flowed  like 
rain,  and,  with  agony,  he  called  upon  God  to 
save  himself  and  his  child.  The  family  and 
servants  of  the  house  were  amazed  ;  but  he 
prayed  on,  and  before  he  rose,  his  child’s 
prayers  were  heard,  if  not  his  own.  The  suffer¬ 
ing  boy  had  found  the  peace  which  passeth 
understanding. 

He  died  trusting  in  his  Saviour,  and  full  of 
tranquil  hope. 

Oppressed  with  sorrow,  the  father  did  not 
cease  to  pray  for  himself ;  he  was  deeply  con¬ 
victed  of  sin,  and  before  long  found  peace  in 
believing. 

He  returned  to  B —  ;  his  child  a  corpse,  but 
himself  a  new  man — the  one  in  heaven,  and  the 
other  on  the  way.  He  brought  to  his  wife  the 
first  news  she  had  received  of  her  missing  son. 
She  wept  ;  but  with  tears  of  gratitude  as  well 
as  sorrow',  acknowledging  that,  in  affliction, 
God  had  blessed  her.  Her  prayers  had  not 
failed.  Providence  had  overruled  the  miscon¬ 
duct  of  her  child  for  his  own  and  his  father’s 
salvation. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


89 


Captain  L.  lived  several  years  after  this  inci¬ 
dent,  a  devoted  Christian,  and  died  praising  God 
sloud  for  his  mercy  to  him  at  Cuba. 

The  impressions  of  childhood,  how  inefface¬ 
able  are  they !  How,  amid  the  confusion  and 
dissipation  of  later  life,  do  they  still  abide, 
though  concealed — like  burning  coals,  smoth¬ 
ered,  but  not  extinguished,  amid  the  rubbish 
that  afterward  they  consume  !  Search  the 
records  of  Christian  biography,  especially  of 
the  Christian  ministry,  and  you  will  find  that  a 
striking  proportion  were  the  children  of  Chris¬ 
tian  parents,  or,  at  least,  of  Christian  mothers. 
If  there  are  any  prayers  which,  more  than 
others,  must  prevail  with  God,  they  are  those 
of  the  devoted  mother  pleading  for  her  wander¬ 
ing  child. 

3 


90 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


THE  JEWS. 

“  My  covenant  will  I  not  break .” — Psalmist. 

No  people,  whose  annals  have  ever  had  a 
record  in  the  history  of  the  world,  afford  so 
many  anomalous  peculiarities  as  the  Jews. 
Their  history  is  a  wonderful  record  of  almighty 
providences.  Descending  from  a  single  man, 
a  venerable  patriarch,  and  friend  of  God,  they 
were  multiplied  like  the  stars  of  heaven,  and 
the  sands  on  the  seashore  ;  and  from  a  national 
infancy,  spent  in  bondage,  they  were  led  by  the 
hand  of  a  parental  Providence  through  every 
vicissitude  of  national  elevation  and  depression. 
At  one  time,  guided  by  the  Almighty  in  a 
symbolic  cloud  and  burning  pillar,  they  triumph 
over  their  foes,  and  spread  the  fear  of  their 
name  among  the  nations  ;  at  another,  they 
mourn  in  captivity,  and  hang  their  harps  on  the 
willows  of  a  strange  land.  Once  their  holy  city 
rises  in  splendor,  with  its  glorious  temple  dig¬ 
nified  by  the  attendance  of  monarchs,  and  sanc¬ 
tified  by  the  services  of  inspired  prophets  and 
priests ;  and  now,  the  ploughshare  is  driven 
through  its  foundations,  their  whole  national 
organization  broken  up,  their  population,  like 
the  stars  of  heaven  scattered  over  the  fir- 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  91 

mament,  dispersed  to  the  boundaries  of  the 
world. 

And  yet  this  singular  and  inscrutable  course 
of  events,  in  the  national  history  of  the  Jews, 
was  described  beforehand,  in  prophecy,  with 
almost  the  same  minuteness  with  which  time 
itself  has  developed  it. 

By  Moses  it  was  written  :  “  The  Lord  shall 
scatter  thee  among  all  people,  from  the  one  end 
of  the  earth  even  to  the  other  ;  and  among  these 
nations  shalt  thou  find  no  ease,  neither  shall  the 
sole  of  thy  foot  rest ;  and  thou  shalt  become  an 
astonishment,  a  proverb,  and  a  by-word,  among 
all  nations  whither  the  Lord  shall  lead  thee  ; 
and  thou  shalt  be  only  oppressed  and  crushed 
alway.”  But  yet,  with  all  these  afflictions,  the 
Jews  were  to  be  preserved.  “  Yet,  for  all  that, 
when  they  be  in  the  land  of  their  enemies  I 
will  not  cast  them  away,  neither  will  I  abhor 
them  to  destroy  them  utterly.”  “  I  will  make  a 
full  end  of  all  the  nations  whither  I  have  driven 
thee,  but  I  will  not  make  a  full  end  of  thee.” 

What  a  literal  history,  written  three  thousand 
years  before  the  events,  was  this  of  the  present 
condition  of  the  Jews  ! 

1.  They  were  to  be  “scattered  among  all 
people,  from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the 
other.” 


2 


92  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

2  They  were  to  find  no  ease  nor  rest  to  the 
sole  of  their  feet. 

3.  They  were  to  be  persecuted  with  reproach : 
“  an  astonishment,  and  a  proverb,  and  a  by-word.” 

4.  But  not  cut  off :  “  I  will  not  cast  them 
away,  neither  will  I  abhor  them  to  destroy  them 
utterly.”  This  prophecy,  in  all  these  respects 
is  now  in  actual  exemplification  on  the  face  of 
the  whole  world. 

Here  we  have  a  living  and  everywhere  exist¬ 
ing  monument  of  the  truth  of  prophecy — a  perpe¬ 
tuated  miracle,  the  laws  of  nature  suspended,  and 
the  analogy  of  things  interrupted. 

While  all  the  other  nations  of  the  ancient 
world  have  lost  their  national  identity,  and  either 
faded  from  the  earth  or  been  merged  in  new 
combinations,  the  history  of  this  singular  people 
presents  us  with  the  anomaly,  as  observed  by 
an  able  writer,  not  merely  of  a  river,  which,  after 
rising  from  its  small  mountain  spring,  continues 
to  flow  through  the  ocean  of  waters  without  min¬ 
gling  with  the  general  mass,  but  the  more  strik 
ing  prodigy  of  one  whose  waters  have  become 
dispersed  through  the  whole  extent,  and,  by  the 
vicissitudes  of  the  tides,  carried  to  every  tribu¬ 
tary  stream,  and  yet  each  drop  retaining  its  dis¬ 
tinctiveness  from  the  mass,  and  prepared  at  any 
time  to  be  collected  together.  What,  but  a  most 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  93 

special  Providence,  has  enabled  this  singular 
race  to  resist  all  the  social  affinities  that  mix 
and  connect  men  in  society ;  and,  with  a  dis¬ 
persion  co-extensive  with  the  earth,  under  all 
climes,  in  all  latitudes,  in  all  longitudes,  among 
all  nations  and  kindreds,  and  tongues  and  people, 
maintain  their  national  character  without  a  na¬ 
tional  organization  1  Bowed  down  with  afflic¬ 
tions,  oppressed  by  the  legal  institutions  of 
almost  every  country  under  heaven,  and  where 
the  civil  constitution  of  society  does  not  grind 
them  down,  yet  failing  to  remove  the  doom  of 
Heaven,  the  instinctive  repugnance  of  man¬ 
kind  humbles  them  to  the  ignominy  of  an  in¬ 
ferior  and  despicable  caste  ;  rejected  of  God, 
outcast  of  men,  it  seems  as  if  the  stars  of  hea¬ 
ven  fought  against  them  in  their  courses.  The 
sun,  in  his  career,  has  been  hailed  in  every  clime 
by  their  cry  of  lamentation  and  wo,  as  if  the  hand 
of  divine  judgment  held  them  up  to  the  gaze  and 
scorn  of  the  revolving  world,  and  yet  made  them 
immortal  in  dissolution  itself. 

The  prophecy  states,  that  though  God  should 
make  “  a  full  end  of  all  the  nations  whither  he 
would  disperse  the  Jews,  yet  of  them  he  would 
not  make  an  end.”  This  has  been  fulfilled. 
The  nations  that  were  contemporary  with  them 
in  the  days  of  their  national  existence  live  only 

2 


94 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


in  the  narration  of  the  historian,  or  the  desolate 
vestiges  that  tell  to  the  passing  traveler  the 
sites  where  stood  their  walls  and  towers. 
Babylon,  Nineveh,  and  Tyre,  have  all  passed 
away  from  the  list  of  nations.  The  descendants 
of  their  ancient  inhabitants  are  lost  in  the  mass 
of  the  world’s  population.  But  the  sons  of  Israel 
still  retain  their  ancient  character,  preserving 
uncorrupted  their  lineage  from  the  patriarchs, 
the  prophets,  and  warriors  of  their  sacred  times ; 
they  travel,  though  “  with  weary  foot  and  restless 
breast,”  yet  still  the  sons  of  ancient  Zion,  over 
the  ruins  of  the  nations  within  whose  once  mighty 
walls  their  fathers  were  led  captive  in  chains,  and 
whose  present  condition  their  prophets  proclaim  • 
ed  in  the  ears  of  trembling  monarchs.  Though 
accursed,  they  stand  up,  in  all  the  world,  wit¬ 
nesses  for  the  God  they  offend.  In  the  ends 
of  the  earth,  in  the  isles  of  the  sea,  in  the  cities 
of  Asia,  Europe,  and  America,  on  the  Alps  and 
the  Himalaya,  on  the  Alleghanies,  the  Cordil¬ 
leras,  and  the  Andes,  they  wander  among  the 
nations,  yet  remain  distinct. 

In  the  past  and  present  peculiarities  of  this 
afflicted  people  we  have  a  certain  pledge  of  the 
fulfillment  of  the  prophecies  which  declare  their 
future  conversion  and  restoration.  Though  dis¬ 
persed  over  the  extent  of  the  earth,  and  diffused 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


95 


through  the  whole  mass  of  its  population,  yet, 
from  the  distinctness  and  identity  of  their  cha¬ 
racter,  they  are  prepared,  at  any  time,  to  obey 
the  call  of  that  Almighty  voice  which  has  an¬ 
nounced  to  the  nations  that  the  time  of  their 
deliverance  is  yet  to  come.  And  for  what  pur¬ 
pose  have  they  been  kept  a  distinct  people,  but 
that  they  may  yet  be  restored  to  the  favor  of 
God,  and  reinstated  in  their  ancient  and  holy 
land  ?  Where  is  the  infidel  speculator  who  can 
read  this  lesson  of  Providence,  and  dare  deny 
its  convincing  clearness  ? 


2 


96 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


AN  INCIDENT  WITH  A  LESSON. 

“ The  Lord  liftctli  up  the  meek." — David. 

There  is  moral  strength  in  meekness — it  is 
among  the  surest  evidences  of  sincerity,  and 
this,  itself,  is  a  mighty  means  of  influence. 
But  there  is,  also,  in  its  very  aspect  and  tones 
an  intrinsic  power,  a  suitableness  to  conciliate 
and  affect  the  mind.  “  A  soft  answer,”  says 
the  wise  man,  “  turneth  away  wrath.”  “  I  am 
meek  and  lowly  in  heart,”  said  the  incarnated 
Almighty.  When  accompanied  by  superior 
abilities  what  an  effectiveness  does  it  impart  to 
them !  Artists  tell  us  that  contrasts  heighten 
effect.  Splendid  abilities  put  forth  with  meek 
ness  and  humility  appear  but  the  more  command¬ 
ing — they  take  us  by  surprise.  A  person  with 
such  traits  conciliates  us  by  his  character  while 
he  controls  us  by  his  powers;  and,  where  no 
superior  talents  are  possessed,  humility  is  a 
grace  beautiful,  because  befitting.  The  Rev. 

Mr.  R - ,  in  a  sermon  before  a  numerous 

audience,  composed  in  part  of  preachers,  related 
an  interesting  anecdote,  illustrative  of  the  in¬ 
fluence  of  humility  in  subduing  a  suspicious  and 
repugnant  mind.  He  was  urging  the  ministers 
present  to  humble  perseverance  in  their  labors, 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


97 


notwithstanding  their  peculiar  trials,  assuring 
them  that  success  would  attend  them  often 
where  they  least  expected  it.  A  young  preacher, 
said  he,  on  going  to  a  distant  field  of  labor,  had 
occasion  to  stop  over  night  with  a  farmer,  a 
member  of  a  Calvinistic  church,  an  honest  man, 
but,  unhappily,  of  a  peevish,  suspicious  temper, 
that  had  been  exasperated  by  several  instances 
of  imposture,  in  which  vagrant  men  had  availed 
themselves  of  his  hospitality  under  the  charac¬ 
ter  of  Christian  ministers.  The  young  preacher 
had  just  commenced  his  ministerial  career,  his 
appearance  was  not  prepossessing,  and  he  was 
depressed  with  anxieties  respecting  his  untried 
field  of  labor. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  he  reached 
the  gate  of  the  farm-yard.  The  farmer  came 
forth  to  meet  him,  but  with  chilling  coldness. 
He  made  surly  inquiries  about  his  name,  whence 
he  came,  whither  he  was  going,  etc.,  express¬ 
ing,  meanwhile,  by  looks,  his  suspicions  ;  and 
giving  very  direct  intimations  about  false  preten 
sions,  etc.  Weary  and  depressed  as  was  the 
stranger,  he  felt  a  momentary  indignation,  but, 
repressing  it,  he  resolved  to  copy  the  meek¬ 
ness  of  his  Master,  and,  by  his  example,  if  not 
otherwise,  attempt  to  curb  the  perversity  of  his 
rustic  host.  He  was  pointed  to  the  stable,  with 
Vol.  II.— 7 


98 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


permission  to  feed  his  horse,  and  come  into  the 
house.  As  he  approached  the  house  he  was 
directed  to  the  kitchen.  Some  food  was  spread 
upon  a  rude  table  for  him.  The  hired  men  in 
.he  kitchen  whispered  to  each  other  their  sur¬ 
prise  that  he  was  not  invited  into  the  pallor. 
Though  of  humble  origin  himself,  he  felt  keenly 
the  indignity  of  his  treatment ;  the  pride  of  his 
heart  for  a  moment  revolted,  and  he  arose  to 
resume  his  journey,  with  the  prospect  of  a  rainy 
night ;  but  he  suddenly  checked  his  feelings, 
and,  looking  to  God,  resolved  to  await  patiently 
the  result  of  this  strange  scene. 

It  was  not  long  before  all  were  called  into 
another  room  for  family  prayers.  The  preacher 
followed  the  hired  laborers,  and  took  his  seat 
in  a  corner.  The  farmer  read  a  chapter  in  the 
Bible.  At  the  end  of  it  he  was  evidently  em¬ 
barrassed  by  an  inward  struggle,  not  knowing 
'vhat  to  do  ;  but,  finally,  turning  to  the  preacher, 
he  abruptly  asked  him  to  pray.  They  knelt 
down,  and  the  young  man,  oppressed  with  feel¬ 
ings  which  prayer  could  best  relieve,  poured 
out  his  soul  and  tears  before  God.  A  divine 
influence  came  down  upon  all  present ;  they 
sobbed  around  him.  The  meek  pathos  of  his 
tones,  the  spirituality  of  his  sentiments,  the 

evangelical  views  involved  in  the  prayer,  and 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


99 


its  prevailing  earnestness,  struck  all  present. 
The  morose  farmer,  subdued  and  melted,  ap¬ 
proached  him  at  the  conclusion  of  the  prayer, 
and,  in  the  presence  of  the  family,  with  flowing 
tears,  begged  his  pardon. 

“  I  should  not  have  been  so  suspicious,”  he 
said,  “  but  I  have  been  all  day  under  a  strong 
temptation  of  the  adversary — my  mind  has  been 
irritable — my  conduct  toward  you  to-night  is  a 
mystery  to  myself — I  cannot  account  for  it  even 
by  the  state  of  my  mind  during  the  day.  I  have 
not  been  myself  or  I  would  not  have  so  treated 
you.  Forgive  me,  sir.  How  have  you  been 
able  to  endure  it  ?” 

“  My  Lord,”  replied  the  youthful  preacher, 
“has  said,  Learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  low¬ 
ly  in  heart.  It  is  my  ambition  to  do  so.  Try, 
my  brother,  to  learn  the  same  lesson.”  It  was 
the  keenest  rebuke  that  could  be  given  to  the 
farmer  ;  he  felt  its  pertinency,  made  the  hum¬ 
blest  acknowledgments,  and  begged  his  mal¬ 
treated  guest  to  tarry  at  the  house  several  days, 
and  preach  to  the  family  and  neighbors.  His 
engagements  would  not  allow  him  to  remain  so 
long  ;  but,  such  was  the  importunity  of  his  host, 
that  he  consented  to  preach  the  next  day.  That 
night  he  reposed  in  the  best  chamber  of  the 
house  and  his  rest  was  sweetened  by  the 


100 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


thought  that  he  had  conquered  a  perverse  mind 
by  an  example  of  meekness.  The  next  day  he 
preached  with  deep  effect,  and  went  on  his  jour¬ 
ney  with  the  prayers  and  blessings  of  the  farmer. 

“  And  what,”  said  the  Rev.  Mr.  R - ,  “  do 

you  suppose  was  the  result  ?  The  old  farmer 
was  a  better  man  ever  after ;  the  sermon  of  the 
young  preacher  had  a  salutary  iufluence  on  the 
whole  neighborhood,  several  were  awakened, 
and  among  these  three  of  the  farmer’s  children  ; 
two  of  them  have  since  gone  safe  to  heaven. 
Ah !  it  is  the  temper  of  Christ  that  fits  us  for 
usefulness  !” 

During  the  relation  of  this  anecdote,  the  Rev. 
Mr.  C.,  who  was  one  of  the  hearers,  was  deeply 
excited.  His  color  changed  frequently,  and,  at 
the  conclusion,  he  burst  into  tears,  and  was  so 
overpowered  and  faint  that  he  had  to  be  led  out. 
On  recovering  his  strength  and  self-possession, 
the  mystery  was  solved.  He  was  the  young 
man  alluded  to  by  the  preacher,  but  he  had 
never  learned  before  the  happy  results  of  the 
circumstance.  When  the  preacher  mentioned 
them  he  was  taken  by  surprise  ;  grateful  joy 
filled  and  overflowed  his  heart,  and  his  emotions 
were  too  intense  for  his  strength. 

“  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  for  thou 
shalt  find  it  after  many  days.” 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS- 


101 


METHODISM— ITS  SPECIAL  CHARACTER. 

“  Wesleyan  Methodism  is  one  of  the  greatest  devel¬ 
opments  of  Christianity  during  the  last  century 

Rev.  R.  S.  Chandlish,  Edinburgh. 

It  is  all  important  to  the  continued  prosperi¬ 
ty  of  Methodism  that  its  friends  ever  bear  in 
mind  the  special  character  of  its  mission.  1 Me¬ 
thodism  is  a  special  system,  and  every  Methodist 
ought  to  be  a  special  Christian.  Titus  ii,  14. 
Its  whole  history  and  character  are  impressed 
with  the  marks  of  a  special  design.  It  origi¬ 
nated  at  a  special  time,  a  period  in  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  Dr.  Watts  declared  that  “religion  was 
dying  in  the  world;”  and  when  Butler  assures  us 
that  Christianity  was  “  treated  as  if  it  had,  at 
length,  been  discovered  to  be  fictitious.”  “  Just 
at  the  time,”  says  Wesley,  “  when  we  wanted 
little  of  filling  up  the  measure  of  our  iniquities, 
did  two  or  three  of  the  clergymen  of  the  Church 
of  England  begin  vehemently  to  call  sinners  to 
repentance.”  Few  periods  in  the  history  of 
the  English  Church  were  darker.  I  have 
already  shown  that  natural  religion  had  become 
the  substance  of  preaching ;  that  Arianism  and 
Socinianism,  under  the  influence  of  such  men 
as  Priestley,  Whiston,  and  Dr.  S.  Clarke,  were 

2 


102 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


current  among  the  learned  ;  that  the  most  giant 
advocates  of  skepticism  England  has  produced 
— Hobbes,  Bolingbroke,  Hume,  and  Gibbon — 
were  appearing,  or  just  had  appeared,  in  the 
conflict  with  Christianity ;  while,  across  the 
channel,  the  strong-holds  of  the  Reformation 
were  yielding  to  a  deistical  theology,  and  the 
French  philosophers  were  spreading  moral  con¬ 
tagion  through  Europe.  At  this  dark  period  did 
God  raise  up  Wesley,  Whitefield,  and  their  co¬ 
laborers,  and  thrust  them  out  to  revive  the  ele¬ 
mentary  doctrines  of  Christianity,  and  exemplify 
again  the  apostolic  spirit  and  labors. 

Not  only  did  it  arise  at  a  special  time ,  but  the 
men  who  introduced  it  were  special  men.  It  is 
not  hazarding  much  to  say  that,  in  the  group 
of  its  earlier  characters,  we  meet  with  some 
who  were  the  most  extraordinary  in  their  re¬ 
spective  spheres  that  have  appeared  since  the 
foundation  of  Christianity: — Wesley,  one  of 
the  greatest  of  ecclesiastical  legislators;  White- 
field,  the  most  extraordinary  pulpit  orator ; 
Charles  Wesley,  the  best  of  sacred  poets ; 
Fletcher,  one  of  the  most  profound  polemics  ; 
Coke,  the  greatest  leader  of  modern  missions  ; 
Asbury,  the  most  laborious  of  bishops  ;  and  two 
commentators,  Clarke  and  Benson,  one  among 

the  most  learned,  and  the  other  among  the  best 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


103 


of  practical  expositors.  Who  can  doubt  the 
evidence  of  divine  Providence  displayed  in  the 
coexistence  and  co-operation  of  these  remark¬ 
able  men  ?  While  Wesley  was  employing  his 
wonderful  powers  in  constructing  and  establish¬ 
ing  the  economy  of  Methodism,  Whitefield  was 
rousing  for  it  the  popular  sympathies  by  his 
eloquence,  and  preparing  especially  other  sects 
for  the  influence  which  time  has  shown  it  was 
destined  to  exert  upon  them;  Charles  Wesley 
was  imbodying  its  tenets  and  spirit  in  verse, 
and  preparing,  for  its  future  hundreds  of  thou¬ 
sands,  an  unrivaled  psalmody ;  Fletcher  was 
defending,  with  a  battle-ax  which  nothing  could 
withstand,  its  theology,  and  vindicating  it  as 
much  by  his  spirit  as  his  logic  ;  Coke  was  de¬ 
veloping  its  plans  of  foreign  conquest ;  Asbury, 
the  great  pioneer  of  American  revivals,  was 
applying  its  energies  to  the  new  circumstances 
of  this  continent ;  and  Benson  and  Clarke 
followed,  fortifying  it  firmly  on  the  foundation 
of  the  Scriptures.  These  were  the  leaders  ; 
but  the  subordinate  instruments  were  likewise 
marked  by  strong  characteristics,  distinguishing 
them  as  men  raised  up  by  God  for  an  extraor¬ 
dinary  purpose. 

The  measures  of  Methodism  bear  the  same 

special  character.  Dr.  Chalmers  has  charac- 

2 


104  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

terized  it  as  “  Christianity  in  earnest.”  Effect, 
and  immediate  effect,  is  its  uniform  intent. 
Wesley  and  his  coadjutors  preached  the  com- 
mon  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  but  distinguished 
them  more  clearly,  and  emphasized  them  more 
strongly,  than  others,  insomuch  that  they  struck 
the  public  attention  as  new  truths.  They  were 
not  content  with  the  limits  of  church  edifices, 
but  betook  themselves  to  the  open  air.  Station¬ 
ary  labors  could  not  satisfy  their  zeal ;  but  they 
went  up  and  down  the  land,  preaching  by 
night  and  by  day ;  they  “  ran  to  and  fro,  and 
knowledge  increased.”  Methodism  could  not 
delay  its  great  designs  by  waiting  for  a  minis¬ 
try  qualified  by  the  old  course  of  preparatory 
education  ;  but  revived  the  apostolic  example 
of  a  lay  ministry.  It  could  not  allow  these  the 
limited  labors  of  a  single  charge  ;  but  hastening 
them  from  place  to  place,  it  revived  the  means 
by  which  the  apostolic  ministry  conquered  the 
world — an  itinerant  ministry.  Not  content  with 
its  regular  labors,  it  appropriated  all  its  subor¬ 
dinate  energies  in  the  new  offices  of  local 
preachers,  exhorters,  and  leaders.  While  it 
retained  the  more  formal  means  of  grace,  it 
either  introduced,  or  adopted,  the  class-meeting , 
the  hand-meeting ,  the  prayer -meeting,  the  camp- 

meeting,  the  love-feast,  and  the  watch-night. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  105 

Thus  it  studied  to  apply  every  energy,  and  to 
apply  it  in  the  most  productive  manner.  The 
effective  system  of  American  Methodism  exem¬ 
plifies  well  this,  its  practical  energy.  It  is  a 
vast  and  powerful  machinery.  Our  general 
conferences,  annual  conferences,  quarterly  con¬ 
ferences,  leaders’-meetings,  and  class-meetings  ; 
our  gradations  of  labor — bishops,  presiding  el¬ 
ders,  circuit  preachers,  stationed  preachers,  local 
preachers,  exhorters,  and  leaders — form  a  series 
of  instrumentalities  unequaled  in  the  economy 
of  any  other  Protestant  denomination. 

Not  only  has  it  been  thus  special  in  the  cir¬ 
cumstances  of  its  origin,  in  its  characters  and 
measures,  but  also  in  its  spirit.  What  candid 
observer,  however  he  may  question  some  of  its 
peculiarities,  will  deny,  that  a  more  than  com¬ 
mon  share  of  the  divine  influence  has  been 
vouchsafed  to  it,  and  that  its  system  has  been 
extraordinarily  productive  ?  We  assert  it,  not 
boastfully,  though  gratefully,  and  as  an  unques¬ 
tionable  fact  of  its  history — a  fact  which  ought 
to  be  particularly  regarded,  if  we  would  appre¬ 
ciate  the  system  and  mission  which  God  has 
appointed  us.  How  is  it,  otherwise,  that  such 
general  and  constant  revivals  prevail  under  it  ? 
that  so  many  thousands  have  been  rescued  by 
it  from  the  lowest  conditions  of  vice  ?  that  such 

3 


106 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


multitudes  have  passed  from  within  its  pale  joy¬ 
fully  to  the  church  triumphant  ?  and  that  a  num¬ 
ber,  exceeding,  by  nearly  one  half,  the  next 
largest  sect  in  the  land,  are  still  marching  under 
its  banners  to  the  same  heavenly  Jerusalem  ? 
This  special  success  is  the  result  of  a  special 
energy,  and  all  men,  whose  eyes  are  open,  be¬ 
hold  it. 

Methodism  is  essentially  vital  and  operative  : 
it  must  ever  be  so  :  it  is  an  absolute  necessity  of 
its  system.  And  herein  we  observe  a  peculiari¬ 
ty  which  ought  to  strike,  most  impressively,  its 
friends  as  guarantying,  with  the  divine  blessing, 
its  perpetual  integrity  and  prevalence.  All  other 
sectarian  forms  of  Christianity  have  declined. 
Congregationalism,  with  its  simple  rites,  be¬ 
came  a  lifeless  system  of  religious  common¬ 
places.  “  Protestant  Episcopalianism”  degene¬ 
rated  into  a  spiritless  ritual.  All  the  distinctive 
and  essential  traits  of  each  have  coexisted  with 
a  general  absence  of  vital  religion.  The  state  of 
the  English  Church  when  Methodism  began  was 
an  example  of  the  latter  ;  the  state  of  the  New- 
England  Church  before  and  after  Edwards  of  the 
former.  But  we  can  hardly  conceive  of  Me¬ 
thodism  in  such  a  state.  While  these  denomi¬ 
nations  have  lost  their  vitality,  without  losing 
any  of  their  distinctive  traits,  Methodism  abso 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


107 


lutely  cannot  thus  decline  without  the  extinction 
of  all  that  is  distinctively  Methodistic  in  its  sys¬ 
tem.  We  are  almost  induced,  in  this  view,  to 
consider  it  a  final  form  of  Christianity — a  mil¬ 
lennial  system.  How  can  we  conceive  of  a  life¬ 
less  laity  imbodied  in  classes,  and  meeting 
weekly  to  converse  of  Christian  experience  ? 
Or  of  a  dead  ministry,  leading  the  pilgrim  life 
of  itinerants  ?  Or  of  such  a  laity  hearing,  and 
such  a  ministry  preaching,  the  distinctive  doc¬ 
trines  of  Methodism — distinguishable  conversion , 
the  witness  of  the  Spirit ,  and  Christian  perfec¬ 
tion  ?  Herein,  then,  is  Methodism  unique  :  it 
cannot,  like  other  sects,  decline  seriously,  and 
retain  its  distinctive  character :  it  can  only  fall 
by  a  revolution  of  its  whole  practical  system  :  it 
must  lose  its  identity,  and  be  no  longer  Method¬ 
ism.  We  do  not  assert  its  infallibility,  but  its 
singular  security.  It  may  experience  such  a 
revolution  ;  but  who  will  predict  it  ? 

In  all  these  respects  Methodism  is  marked 
with  a  special  character  and  a  special  purpose. 
Wesley  said  that  its  purpose  was  to  “spread 
holiness  over  the  land  but  it  is  greater :  it  is 
o  “  spread  holiness  over  the  world.”  It  was 
raised  up,  not  merely  to  resuscitate  the  English 
Church,  but  to  affect  all  Protestant  Christen¬ 
dom,  either  by  its  direct  action,  or  by  its  exam- 

2 


108 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


pie.  It  is  a  missionary  church  m  its  plans ,  a 
revival  church  in  its  spirit ;  and  such  it  promises 
to  be  until  the  world  is  redeemed. 

I  have  said  that  it  is  important  that  we  bear 
in  mind  tbe  special  character  of  our  cause. 

First,  the  idea  of  our  special  character  will 
lead  us  to  hear  patiently  the  special  inconveniences 
of  our  system.  The  greatest  of  these,  to  both 
people  and  preachers,  arise  from  our  itinerancy  ; 
and  the  most  serious  objection  under  which  our 
polity  suffers  is  brought  against  the  appointing 
power  upon  which  the  itinerancy  is  based ;  yet 
this  itinerancy,  with  its  episcopal  basis,  is  the 
most  indispensable  feature  of  our  economy. 
Abolish  it,  and  you  cut  the  locks  from  your 
young  giant.  Besides  its  moral  effect  upon 
the  ministry,  by  reminding  them  that  here  they 
have  no  abiding  city ;  and  upon  the  people,  by 
the  constant  distribution  of  our  various  talents, 
it  is  necessary  to  the  support  of  a  large  portion 
of  our  appointments.  Many  of  these  do  not 
afford  a  full  support  to  the  preacher  ;  and  thus 
it  must  be  wThile  there  is  a  frontier  to  our  work  ; 
and  such  a  frontier  there  must  be  till  the  world 
is  evangelized.  Some  of  them  require  actual 
suffering.  Methodist  preachers  are  of  like  pas¬ 
sions  with  other  men  :  they  know  it,  and  there 
fore  have  they  adopted  a  system  which,  by  it* 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  109 

authoritativeness,  will  not  allow  of  the  indul¬ 
gences  and  evasions  of  selfishness  ;  and,  by  the 
frequent  changes  which  it  effects,  distributes 
and  relieves  the  inconveniences  which  it  im¬ 
poses.  What  would  become  of  these  indigent 
appointments,  if  the  appointing  power  were 
vested  in  the  whole  conference,  or  a  committee 
of  its  appointment,  subject  to  an  appeal  to  the 
conference  ?  Who  would  appoint  himself  to 
such  posts  ?  Who  would  not  feel  disposed  to 
escape,  by  all  possible  means,  the  embarrass¬ 
ments  and  sufferings  which  most  of  our  preach¬ 
ers  now  endure  ?  Some  there  might  be,  who, 
brave  of  heart,  would  court  perils,  and  exult  in 
the  brunt  of  the  battle  ;  but  many,  without  doubt, 
would  seek,  like  troops  in  the  field,  who  should 
have  the  choice  of  their  own  position,  the  se¬ 
curer  posts.  I  have  no  doubt  that  one-third  of 
all  our  appointments  would  be  left  unsupported 
in  a  few  years  after  such  a  revolution  in  our 
ecclesiastical  polity.  I  do  not  depreciate  our 
preachers  by  this  remark  ;  I  base  it  on  a  just 
view  of  human  nature  ;  all  who  understand  hu¬ 
man  nature  will  accede  to  it.  Their  work  is 
militant :  like  men  in  battle,  they  know  they 
must  suffer,  must  stand  amid  mortifications  and 
perils,  which  are  rarely  matters  of  voluntary 

choice;  and,  therefore,  like  soldiers,  in  the 

2 


110 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


emergencies  of  war,  they  pledge  themselve?  o 
obey  their  leaders  ;  but  those  leaders  are  of 
their  own  constitution,  and  the  measure  of  obe¬ 
dience  is  of  their  own  devising.  Selecting  the 
fathers  of  the  ministry  for  their  superintendents, 
they  say  unto  them,  “  Here  we  have  no  abiding 
city,”  and,  “  Though  bonds  and  afflictions  await 
us,  yet  none  of  these  things  move  us  ;  neither 
count  we  our  lives  dear  unto  us,  so  that  we 
might  finish  our  course  with  joy,  and  the  min¬ 
istry  which  we  have  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
to  testify  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God  point 
us,  therefore,  to  the  positions  most  suitable  for 
us  ;  let  them  be  easy  or  perilous,  secure  or  dan¬ 
gerous,  “  here  are  we  ;  send  us.” 

This  is  the  language  of  a  genuine  Methodist 
preacher  ;  and  this  is  not  the  language  of  servi¬ 
lity,  but  of  a  heroic  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  pro¬ 
duced,  under  God,  by  that  truly  militant  system 
which  some,  indisposed  to  its  labors,  or  impa¬ 
tient  of  its  authority,  would  abolish.  Let  it  be 
abolished,  and  the  permanent  triumphs  of  Me¬ 
thodism  cease :  our  ministry  will  become  like 
other  ministries.  What  other  preachers  go,  or 
would  go,  where  Methodist  preachers  go  ?  With 
all  their  poverty  and  illiteracy,  are  they  not  the 
front  line  of  the  American  ministry  on  the  borders 

of  civilization  ?  and  do  they  not,  in  our  older 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


Ill 


communities,  perform  labors  and  sustain  bur¬ 
dens  which  few,  if  any,  of  the  clergy  of  other 
sects  do  ?  And  how  but  by  the  peculiarity  of 
their  system  ? 

Let  it  not  be  objected  that  the  English  Me¬ 
thodist  preachers  are  subject  to  no  such  abso¬ 
lute  control.  If  it  were  true,  yet  there  is  no 
analogy  between  the  cases.  There  is  no  Eng¬ 
lish  preacher  who  does  not  get  a  comfortable 
support,  either  from  his  people  or  the  funds  of 
the  conference.  The  English  Conference  re¬ 
ceives  no  appointment  except  as  a  mission,  un¬ 
less  it  can  support  a  preacher.  The  appoint¬ 
ments  of  the  English  preachers  are  made  by  a 
committee.  This  is  virtually  the  case  in  the 
American  church,  the  presiding  elders  being, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  such  a  committee 
in  conjunction  with  the  bishops  ;  and,  for  my 
own  part,  I  would  rather  have  such  a  com¬ 
mittee,  composed  of  men  who,  from  their  offi¬ 
cial  position,  can  have  a  knowledge  of  the  gene¬ 
ral  demands  of  the  work,  and  are  not  liable  to 
the  interferences  of  personal  interest,  than  one 
composed  of  men  who  have  a  common  place 
with  myself  in  the  list  of  appointments.  The 
English  preachers  were  subject  to  an  individual 
and  absolute  appointing  power,  until  about  the 

time  in  which  their  fiscal  system  allowed  of  a 

2 


112 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


modification  ;  and  the  appointments  of  this  com¬ 
mittee  are  generally  as  inexorable  as  those  of 
our  committee  of  presiding  elders  and  bishops. 
Indeed,  a  large  majority  of  Wesleyan  preachers 
have  no  voice  whatever  in  the  proceedings  of 
their  conference.  But  one  hundred  can  act  at 
all,  as  instituted  by  Wesley. 

We  believe  Methodist  preachers  are  almost 
universally  and  immovably  attached  to  their 
present  government.  A  few  aspiring  or  disap¬ 
pointed  spirits  may  revolt,  a  few  more  of  better 
integrity  may,  for  want  of  a  close  investigation 
of  its  advantages,  wish  for  a  change  ;  but  the 
latter  generally  come  out  right  in  the  end ;  and 
the  former  have  never  permanently  injured  us, 
and  have  never  been  succeeded  by  the  provi¬ 
dence  of  God.  Meanwhile  Methodism  is  ad¬ 
vancing  in  triumph.  Tens  of  thousands  flock 
to  her  ranks  yearly,  hundreds  of  thousands  have 
gone  up  to  heaven  from  her  pale,  and  hundreds 
of  thousands  are  on  their  way.  They  have 
been  opposed  at  each  inch  of  their  advance¬ 
ment,  but  they  have  pressed  onward,  and  from 
all  quarters  the  cry  is,  Still  they  come  !  In  the 
village  and  in  the  city,  in  the  wigwam  of  tne 
savage  and  the  hut  of  the  slave,  on  the  shores 
of  the  Puritans  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Co¬ 
lumbia,  amid  the  colds  of  Canada  and  the 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


113 


savannas  of  Texas,  the  preachers  of  this  “  de¬ 
spotic”  system  are  suffering  and  triumphing. 
On  them  and  on  their  fields  God  has  deigned 
the  greatest  outpourings  of  his  Spirit  in  modem 
times  ;  and  there  is  but  one  prospect  before 
them,  if  they  will  preserve,  unimpaired  by 
innovation,  their  economy  and  doctrines,  and 
that  is,  universal  progress. 

Second,  it  will  explain  the  indisposition  of  the 
church  to  change  its  polity ,  by  conforming  it  to 
the  notions  of  those  who  clamor  for  what  they 
call  a  republican  church.  There  are  theocratic 
traits  of  the  Christian  church,  which  will  not 
allow  fully  of  such  a  character.  The  most 
ostensible  department  of  the  church — the  mi¬ 
nistry — is  not  representative  ;  it  cannot  be  cre¬ 
ated,  though  it  should  be  sanctioned,  by  the 
people  :  God  alone,  by  the  election  of  his  Spirit, 
can  appoint  men  to  preach  ;  and  such  as  he  calls 
are  the  divinely-authorized  expositors  of  his 
truth  and  administrators  of  evangelical  ordi¬ 
nances  and  discipline.  The  question  of  reli¬ 
gious  liberty  pertains  not  so  much  to  the  church 
as  to  the  state.  Where  the  civil  government 
imposes  no  religious  system,  the  rights  of  con¬ 
science  are  guarantied.  Under  its  broad 
shelter  men  may  properly  form  the  most 
ria-orous  religious  combinations,  provided  they 
Vql.  II.— 8 


114 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


can  enter  into  and  retire  from  them  volun 
tarily. 

The  appointing  power  of  the  Methodist  epis¬ 
copacy  I  have  shown  to  be  one  of  the  most 
essential  features  of  our  polity :  when  it  is 
abolished  our  itineracy  will  become  a  nullity. 
And  yet  this  is  the  peculiarity  of  our  system 
which  is  most  abhorred  by  “  reformers,”  so 
called.  And  why  this  hostility  to  it  ?  Is  not 
its  chief  pressure  on  the  ministry  ;  and  is  it  not 
a  creation  of  the  ministry  itself?  Our  bishops 
do  not  usurp  this  high  prerogative,  but  the  min¬ 
istry  itself  maintains  it,  and  appoints  the  bishop 
to  bear  it.  The  ministry  can  repeal  it,  if  it 
pleases.  Why,  then,  this  outcry  against  an  au¬ 
thority  which  is  voluntarily  sustained  by  those 
who  suffer  its  chief  inconveniences  ?  Is  it  said 
that  “  such  a  prerogative  involves  undue  power  ? 
It  is  inconsistent  with  the  republican  principles 
of  the  country  ?”  etc.  I  reply,  that  it  is  net 
more  so  than  some  usages  which  the  civil  policy 
of  our  country  creates  and  sanctions.  The 
country  sustains  an  army.  The  power  of  mili¬ 
tary  command  is  absolute,  even  unto  death.  The 
soldier’s  only  maxim  in  the  field  is,  “  Obey,” 
if  it  carries  him  to  the  mouth  of  the  cannon 
And  yet,  he  is  a  free  citizen  of  this  republican 

government,  in  all  his  civil  relations.  I  men- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


115 


tion  this  case  merely  to  show  the  absurdity  of 
that  indiscriminate  cry  of  “  republicanism,” 
“  personal  rights,”  etc.,  which  is  so  unceasingly 
uttered  by  reformers.  I  love  republicanism  : 
my  attachment  to  it  grows  with  my  growth  ;  but 
I  love  it  too  much  to  see  it  abused  to  the  pur¬ 
poses  of  anarchy.  By  the  sweeping  generali¬ 
zations  of  such  logicians,  we  must  not  only 
abolish  our  military  and  naval  regimen,  but  also 
the  government  of  our  colleges  and  academies, 
and  of  most  of  our  voluntary  organizations. 
There  is  no  leading  denomination  in  the  land 
whose  system  is  strictly  modeled  after  that  of 
the  civil  government.  The  Methodist  com¬ 
munity  are  as  true  to  their  country  as  any  other 
sect ;  but  they  have  found  their  religious  econo¬ 
my  peculiarly  successful.  It  was  not  devised, 
but  grew  up  providentially  ;  and,  being  assured 
of  the  protection  of  their  individual  rights  by 
the  civil  law,  they  have  not  deemed  it  wise  to 
risk  its  efficiency  by  attempting  to  adjust  it  to 
the  relative  and  abstract  rights  of  its  different 
subjects  ;  but  consent  to  a  mutual  sacrifice  for 
the  common  good.  Their  only  object  being  the 
“  spread  of  holiness,”  their  only  inquiry  is,  “How 
shall  we  most  effectually  accomplish  it  ?” 

Third,  the  influence  of  this  single  impression 
will  he  powerful.  Let  it  be  the  universal  idea  of 

2 


116 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  church  that  we  may  lead  on  the  aggressive 
movements  of  Christianity,  and  our  zeal  will  be 
redoubled.  Hitherto  we  have  been  surprised 
at  our  own  success,  without  a  definite  inference 
of  its  future  results.  We  have  exclaimed, 
“  What  hath  God  wrought !”  and  wondered 
whereunto  it  would  tend.  Standing  now  far  in 
front  of  the  religious  bodies  of  this  great  nation, 
and  prominent  in  the  van  of  those  of  Europe, 
we  ought  to  project  plans  for  the  future  ;  and 
they  should  be  sublime  ones,  befitting  the  gos¬ 
pel,  and  comprehensive  as  our  lost  world.  Our 
zeal  should  look  forward  to  the  time  when  Meth¬ 
odist  itinerants  shall  traverse  the  wilds  of  Africa 
and  the  deserts  of  Tartary,  and  shout  for  joy 
along  the  Andes  and  the  Himalaya.  “  But 
this  is  enthusiasm  yes,  it  is  ;  yet  it  does  not 
transcend  the  power  or  the  promise  of  God. 
It  is  the  enthusiasm  that  inflamed  the  prophets 
and  bled  on  the  cross  for  our  redemption  ;  and 
it  must  yet  thrill  through  the  church  before  she 
will  put  on  her  full  energy.  Heretofore  she  has 
moved  by  occasional  impulses.  Ever  and  anon 
a  glory,  as  of  the  latter  day,  has  dawned  upon 
her,  but  been  followed  by  darkness.  But  now 
good  men  are  looking  at  the  signs  of  the  moral 
heavens  with  new  eagerness  and  hope.  In  all 

lands  great  and  effectual  doors  are  opening. 

2  " 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


117 


New  means  of  spiritual  warfare  are  constantly 
arising.  A  special  providence  seems  to  control 
the  course  of  civil  events.  The  political  arm 
of  antichrist  at  least  is  broken,  and  the  crescent 
of  the  false  prophet  but  gleams  on  the  horizon. 
Great  revivals  are  waking  up  Christendom  ;  and 
the  idea  is  becoming  general  in  the  church  that 
the  morning  of  the  latter  day  is  upon  us,  and 
the  final  battles  are  at  hand.  In  these  circum¬ 
stances,  how  stands  Methodism  ?  One  of  the 
largest  corps  of  the  evangelical  host,  disciplined 
and  hardy  by  nearly  a  century  of  conflicts,  pos¬ 
sessing  energies  unequaled  by  any  other  sect, 
and  lacking  only  a  more  definite  conception  of 
its  true  capability  to  enable  it  to  scatter  dismay 
and  trembling  among  the  powers  of  darkness. 
We  have  a  tolerable  idea  of  the  nature  of  our 
mission,  but  not  of  its  extent.  We  work  well 
at  the  posts  which  have  fallen  to  us,  but  show 
a  culpable  hesitancy  in  assuming  our  true  posi¬ 
tion.  Denominations  of  much  less  strength 
are  before  us  in  their  efforts  for  education,  mis¬ 
sions,  etc.,  and  their  influence  on  the  public 
mind.  Being  first  in  numerical  strength,  it  de¬ 
volves  on  us  to  be  first  in  all  Christian  efforts  ; 
but  we  are  not  yet  second.  Our  missionary 
contributions  are  an  example  :  our  present  in¬ 
come  would  be  quadrupled  by  each  member 

2 


J 18 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


paying  only  a  cent  a  week.  Let  the  idea  of 
our  special  mission  be  generally  received,  and 
it  will  at  once  arouse  us  from  this  apathy  ;  and, 
when  once  awakened,  we  shall  find  our  re¬ 
sources  a  hundred-fold  greater  than  we  have 
apprehended  them  to  be.  O  that  the  young 
generation  of  Methodists,  to  whom  is  committed 
the  future,  may  understand  their  “  high  calling,” 
and  “  acquit  themselves  like  men  !”  Let  them 
be  admonished  that  theirs  will  be  a  rare  re 
sponsibility,  and,  if  faithfully  sustained,  as  glo 
rious  in  honor  and  reward  as  in  responsibility 
2 

/CfJlW)  'i  V.  .If*  .  4-i  S  t:  ■  ,*!  ~  >,  •  ’■  t 


vxkiwcri 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


119 


VISIT  TO  THE  TOMB  OF  WHITEFIELD. 

“  Mighty  through  God." — Paul. 

In  a  late  journey  through  New-England,  I 
stopped  at  Newburyport  to  see  the  tomb  of 
Whitefield.  The  visit  will  always  be  memora¬ 
ble  to  me.  It  suggested  reflections  impressive 
and  profitable.  Whitefield’s  name  belongs  to 
Methodism  ;  his  partial  separation  from  Wes¬ 
ley  was  a  misfortune,  but  his  life  was  spent  in 
the  same  great  evangelical  movement.  We 
must  not  forget  that  he  belonged  to  the  “  Oxford 
Club that  he  was  the  first  of  the  little  band 
that  carried  the  true  light  into  the  coal  mines  of 
Kingswood,  and  the  first  who  had  the  courage 
to  preach  in  the  open  air.  His  stirring  elo¬ 
quence  prepared  the  popular  mind  for  the  more 
systematic  operations  of  Methodism  in  both 
England  and  America. 

His  remains  are  deposited  in  a  vault  under 
the  Federal-street  church — a  church  in  which 
he  had  often  preached,  and  in  sight  of  the  house 
in  which  he  expired.  As  we  passed  near  the  altar 
our  attention  was  arrested  by  a  massive  marble 
cenotaph,  erected  to  his  memory  by  a  wealthy  gen¬ 
tleman  of  the  town.  The  sexton,  having  lighted 

his  lantern,  led  us  into  a  little  vestry  behind  the 

2 


120 


SKETCHES  AN D  INCIDENTS. 


pulpit,  in  the  floor  of  which  is  a  small  trap-door 
This  he  opened,  and  we  descended  into  a  dark 
apartment.,  much  like  a  common  cellar.  On  one 
side  of  this  apartment  is  a  door  opening  into  the 
vault,  which  extends  under  the  pulpit.  We 
passed  into  it.  The  faint  light  of  our  lantern 
gave  a  solemn  gloom  to  this  dark  but  hallowed 
resting-place  of  the  great  modern  evangelist. 
Three  coffins  lay  before  us ;  two  containing 
the  remains  of  ancient  pastors  of  the  church. 
The  lid  of  each  was  open  sufficiently  to  show 
the  head  and  chest,  and  the  skeleton  faces  stared 
on  us  with  ghastly  expression,  as  we  held  over 
them  our  dim  light.  Our  footsteps  and  our 
subdued  voices  called  forth  a  faint  and  trem¬ 
bling  echo,  and  even  this  tomb  of  glorified  saints 
seemed  instinct  with  the  gloom  and  dread  of 
death,  reminding  us  of  the  doom  of  the  fall. 

A  slight  depth  of  black  mold  covered  the  bot¬ 
tom  of  Whitefield’s  coffin,  and  on  this  lay  the 
bare  bones.  I  took  his  skull  into  my  hands, 
and  examined  it  with  intense  interest.  What 
thoughts  of  grandeur  and  power  had  emanated 
from  that  abode  of  the  mind,  and  stirred  with 
emotions  the  souls  of  hundreds  of  thousands 
— emotions  which  will  quicken  their  immor¬ 
tality  !  I  held  it  in  silence,  but  my  mind  ran 

over  the  history  of  the  “  seraphic  man and 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


121 


started,  and  endeavored  to  solve,  a  thousand 
queries  respecting  the  attributes  of  his  charac 
ter,  and  the  means  of  his  wonderful  power 
My  reflections  followed  me  from  the  place.  I 
asked  myself  what  constituted  the  peculiar  effi¬ 
ciency  of  Whitefield’s  preaching  1 

Doubtless,  the  first,  the  strongest  cause  of  it, 
was  that  remarkable  combination  of  the  unction 
from  above,  the  “  Holy  Ghost  and  power,”  with 
intense  natural  sensibility,  which  distinguished 
him.  He  was  “  full  of  faith  and  the  Holv 

a/ 

Ghost.”  In  him  religion  was  from  the  time  of 
his  conversion  to  his  death  a  continual  impulse  ; 
zeal  for  souls  an  unbroken  spell.  All  his  the¬ 
ological  opinions,  his  ideas  of  sin  and  holiness, 
of  heaven  and  hell,  were  not  merely  thoughts, 
but  sentiments ;  not  speculations,  but  unques¬ 
tionable  realities.  They  were  appreciated  by 
nim  as  vividly  as  sensible  facts  are  by  ordinary 
men.  This  vivid  spirituality  inflamed  his  en¬ 
tire  soul,  and  made  him  pass  through  the 
churches  like  an  angel  of  light.  A  spiritual 
unction  seemed  to  drip  down  his  whole  person, 
like  the  anointing  oil  that  “  went  down  to  the 
skirts  of  Aaron’s  garments.” 

It  has  been  said  that  all  his  sentiments  were 
passions.  Few,  if  any,  ever  had  keener  sen¬ 
sibilities.  Remarkably  strong  affections  cha- 

2 


122 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


racterized  the  whole  course  of  his  life.  “  While 
seeking  religion,”  he  says,  “  God  only  knows 
how  many  sleepless  nights  I  have  lain  on  my 
bed,  groaning  under  what  I  felt.  Whole  days 
and  weeks  have  I  spent  lying  prostrate  on  the 
ground  in  silent  or  vocal  prayer.”  It  was  the 
working  of  his  strong  sensibility  that  gave  a 
charm  to  his  preaching,  and  drew,  as  by  magic, 
the  multitudes  after  him.  Under  his  first  ser¬ 
mon,  it  was  reported  that  “  fifteen  persons 
were  driven  mad,”  that  is,  convicted  of  sin. 
His  popularity  was  immediate  and  boundless. 
Speaking  of  one  place,  he  says,  “  The  whole 
city  seemed  alarmed,  and  the  doctrine  of  the 
new-birth  made  its  way  like  lightning  into  the 
consciences  of  the  hearers.”  On  visiting  Bris¬ 
tol,  multitudes  came  out  of  the  city  on  foot  and 
in  coaches  to  escort  him  ;  and  the  people  hailed 
him  as  he  passed  through  the  streets.  His  con¬ 
gregations  were  so  crowded  that  he  could  with 
difficulty  make  his  way  to  the  pulpit.  “  Some 
hung  upon  the  rails  of  the  organ-loft,  others 
climbed  upon  the  leads  of  the  church,  and,  al¬ 
together,  made  the  church  so  hot  with  their 
breath,  that  the  steam  would  fall  from  the  pillars 
like  drops  of  rain.”  Sometimes,  after  his  preach¬ 
ing,  the  multitude,  little  children  and  old  men, 
went  weeping  and  wailing  through  the  streets. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


123 


When  he  visited  Scotland  the  second  time,  the 
people  crowded  to  the  shore  at  Leith,  weeping 
and  blessing  him ;  they  pursued  his  coach  to 
Edinburgh,  pressing  to  welcome  him  when  he 
alighted,  and  to  hold  him  in  their  arms.  “  The 
effect  which  he  produced,”  says  a  distinguished 
writer,  “  was  maddening.”  At  Cambuslang  it 
was  incredible.  He  says,  “  I  preached,  at  two, 
to  a  vast  body  of  people,  and  at  six  in  the  even¬ 
ing,  and  again  at  nine.  Such  a  commotion 
surely  never  was  heard  of,  especially  at  eleven 
at  night.  For  about  an  hour  and  a  half  there 
was  such  weeping,  so  many  falling  into  deep 
distress,  and  expressing  it  in  various  ways,  as 
is  incredible.  The  people  seem  to  be  slain 
by  scores.  They  are  carried  off,  and  come  into 
the  house  like  soldiers  wounded  in  and  carried 
off  a  field  of  battle.  Their  cries  and  agonies 
are  exceedingly  affecting.  Mr.  M.  preached, 
after  I  had  ended,  till  past  one  in  the  morning, 
and  then  could  scarcely  persuade  them  to  re¬ 
tire  ;  all  night,  in  the  fields,  might  be  heard  the 
voice  of  prayer  and  praise.”  On  returning  to 
administer  the  sacrament,  he  says,  “  Scarce 
ever  was  such  a  sight  seen  in  Scotland.  There 
were  upward  of  twenty  thousand  persons. 
Two  tents  were  set,  and  the  holy  sacrament 

was  administered  in  the  field.  When  I  began 

2 


124  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

to  serve  at  one  of  the  tables,  the  power  of  God 
was  felt  by  numbers  ;  but  the  people  crowded 
upon  me  so  that  I  was  compelled  to  desist,  and 
go  and  preach  at  one  of  the  tents  while  the 
ministers  served  the  rest  of  the  tables.  On 
Monday  morning  I  preached  again  to  near  as 
many  ;  such  a  universal  stir  I  never  saw  before. 
The  emotion  fled  as  swift  as  lightning  from  one 
end  of  the  auditory  to  the  other.  You  might 
have  seen  thousands  bathed  in  tears,  some  at 
the  same  time  wringing  their  hands,  others  al¬ 
most  swooning,  and  others  crying  out  and  moan¬ 
ing  over  a  pierced  Saviour.”  The  cool-headed 
Scotch  divines,  unaccustomed  to  such  scenes, 
wrote  a  pamphlet  to  prove  they  were  diabolical, 
and  a  day  of  fasting  was  actually  appointed  for 
his  being  in  Scotland.  Such  powers  of  dis¬ 
course  were,  perhaps,  never  before  witnessed. 
An  ignorant  man  once  characterized  his  elo¬ 
quence  aptly,  when  he  said,  “  Mr.  Whitefield 
preached  like  a  lion.” 

It  was,  I  repeat,  this  prevalence  of  mighty 
feelings,  the  result  of  divine  grace  and  natural 
sensibility,  that  chiefly  constituted  his  eloquence. 
He  felt,  and  the  speaker  who  feels  will  make 
his  hearers  feel,  whatever  may  be  his  other 
deficiencies. 

Secondly,  he  had  not  only  the  soul  of  elo- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


125 


quence,  but  also  the  art.  Elocution  is  not  elo¬ 
quence.  A  speaker  may  be  eloquent  without 
it ;  he  may  have  it  in  perfection,  and  not  be 
eloquent.  But  Whitefield,  while  possessing 
the  moral  and  intellectual  elements  of  the  ora¬ 
tor,  neglected  not  the  practical  principles  of  the 
art.  It  is  said  that  he  studied  and  privately 
practiced  the  precise  rules  of  public  speaking. 
His  gestures  are  said  to  have  been  remarkably 
appropriate ;  those  who  heard  him  often,  say 
that  each  repetition  of  the  same  sermon  showed 
a  studied  improvement,  and  that  several  repeti¬ 
tions  were  necessary  to  perfect  its  effect.  His 
voice  was  laboriously  cultivated,  and  became 
astonishingly  effective.  Garrick,  who  delighted 
to  hear  him,  said  that  he  could  make  his  audience 
weep  or  tremble  merely  by  varying  his  pronun¬ 
ciation  of  the  word  Mesopotamia. 

In  the  third  place,  his  style,  both  of  language 
and  address,  was  natural — it  perfectly  comport¬ 
ed  with  his  strong  natural  feeling.  Though  he 
studied  the  art  of  eloquence,  he  was  not  artificial 
The  ornate,  the  florid  style,  so  commonly  re¬ 
ceived  in  our  day  as  eloquence,  was  utterly 
absent  in  Whitefield.  No  one,  studying  his 
genius,  can  conceive,  for  a  moment,  that  it  was 
possible  for  him  to  use  it.  He  was  too  much 
in  earnest,  too  intent  on  the  object  before  him 

2 


126 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


His  language  is  always  simple  and  colloquial, 
not  fitted  for  books,  but,  therefore,  the  better 
fitted  for  speech,  abounding  in  abrupt  transi¬ 
tions,  and  strongly  idiomatic — such  language  as 
a  sincere  man  would  use  in  earnestly  entreat¬ 
ing  his  neighbor  to  escape  some  impending 
harm.  Though  he  did  not  like  his  reported 
sermons,  they  are  evidently  fac-similes  of  his 
style — direct,  abrupt,  full  of  local  allusion,  and 
presenting  scarcely  a  single  ornamented  pas¬ 
sage — the  very  speech  of  the  common  people. 
It  would  appear  homely,  even  meager,  did  not 
the  reader  supply,  in  his  imagination,  the  con¬ 
versational  manner,  the  tears,  and  the  entreat¬ 
ing  voice  of  the  speaker.  Here  is  an  example, 
taken  at  random  : — 

“  But,  say  you,  all  in  good  time  ;  I  do  not 
choose  to  be  converted  yet.  Why,  what  age 
are  you  now  ?  I  will  come  down  to  a  pretty 
moderate  age  :  suppose  you  are  fourteen  ;  and 
you  do  not  think  it  time  to  be  converted  ?  and 
yet  there  are  a  great  many  here,  I  dare  say, 
twenty  years  old,  and  not  converted.  Some 
are  of  opinion,  that  most  people  that  are  con¬ 
verted,  are  so  before  thirty.  There  was  a 
young  man  buried  last  night  at  Tottenham 
Court  but  seventeen,  an  early  monument  of 

free  grace  !  Are  you  forty,  or  fifty  ?  Is  not 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


127 


that  time  ?  Is  it  time  for  the  poor  prisoners  to 
be  converted  that  are  to  be  hanged  to-morrow 
morning  ?  If  it  is  time  for  them,  it  is  time  for 
you,  for  you  may  be  dead  before  them.  There 
was  a  poor  woman,  but  two  or  three  days  ago, 
that  was  damning  and  cursing  most  shockingly ; 
now  she  is  a  dead  corpse  ;  was  taken  suddenly, 
and  died  away.  God  grant  that  may  not  be  the 
case  with  any  of  you  ;  the  only  way  to  prevent 
it  is,  to  be  enabled  to  think  that  now  is  an  ac¬ 
cepted  time ,  that  now  is  the  day  of  salvation. 
Let  me  look  round,  and  what  do  you  suppose  I 
was  thinking  ?  Why,  that  it  is  a  mercy  we  have 
not  been  in  hell  a  thousand  times.  How  many 
are  there  in  hell  that  used  to  say,  Lord,  convert 
me,  but  not  now  ?  One  of  the  good  old  Puri¬ 
tans  says,  hell  is  paved  with  good  intentions. 
Now  can  you  blame  me,  can  you  blame  the 
ministers  of  Christ,  if  this  is  the  case  ?  Can 
you  blame  us  for  calling  after  you,  for  spending 
and  being  spent  for  your  souls  ?  It  is  easy  for 
you  to  come  to  hear  the  gospel,  but  you  do  not 
know  what  nights  and  days  we  have  ;  what 
pangs  in  our  hearts,  and  how  we  travail  in  birth 
till  Jesus  Christ  be  formed  in  your  souls.  Men. 
brethren,  and  fathers,  hearken,  God  help  you, 
save,  save,  save  yourselves  from  an  untoward- 
generation.  To-night  somebody  sits  up  with 

2 


128 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  prisoners ;  if  they  find  any  of  them  asleep,  01 
no  sign  of  their  being  awake,  they  knock  and  call, 
and  the  keepers  cry,  Awake  !  and  I  have  heard 
that  the  present  ordinary  sits  up  with  them  all 
the  night  before  their  execution  ;  therefore, 
don’t  be  angry  with  me  if  I  knock  at  your 
doors,  and  cry,  Poor  sinners,  awake  !  awake  ! 
and  God  help  thee  to  take  care  thou  dost  not 
sleep  in  an  unconverted  state  to-night.  The 
court  is  just  sitting,  the  executioner  stands 
ready,  and  before  to-morrow,  long  before  to¬ 
morrow,  Jesus  may  say  of  some  of  you,  Bind, 
him  hand  and  foot.  The  prisoners  to-morrow 
will  have  their  hands  tied  behind  them,  their 
thumb-strings  must  be  put  on,  and  their  fetters 
knocked  off ;  they  must  be  tied  fast  to  the  cart, 
the  cap  put  over  their  faces,  and  the  dreadful 
signal  given  :  if  you  were  their  relations  would 
not  you  weep  ?  don’t  be  angry,  then,  with  a 
poor  minister  for  weeping  over  them  that  will 
not  weep  for  themselves.  If  you  laugh  at  me,  I 
know  Jesus  smiles.  I  cannot  force  a  cry  when 
I  will ;  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  praised,  I  am 
free  from  the  blood  of  you  all:  if  you  are  damned 
for  want  of  conversion,  remember  you  are  not 
damned  for  want  of  warning.  Thousands  that 
have  not  the  gospel  preached  to  them,  may  say, 

Lord,  we  never  heard  what  conversion  is  ;  but 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  129 

you  are  gospel-proof ;  and  if  there  is  any  deeper 
place  in  hell  than  other,  God  will  order  a  gospel- 
despising  Methodist  to  be  put  there.  You  will 
have  dreadful  torments ;  to  whom  much  is  given, 
much  will  be  required.  How  dreadful  to  have 
minister  after  minister,  preacher  after  preacher, 
say,  Lord  God ,  I  preached ,  but  they  would  not 
hear  !  Think  of  this,  professors,  and  God  make 
you  possessors  !” 

Such  a  mode  of  address,  fraught  with  the 
emotions  of  Whitefield,  could  not  but  interest  a 
popular  audience.  How  does  it  contrast  with 
the  polished  phrases  and  formal  mannerism  of 
the  pulpit  generally !  Who  could  go  to  sleep 
addressed  in  this  direct  style  ?  Who  could 
divert  his  attention  from  the  subject  to  think  of 
the  speaker  ?  I  do  not  say  that  a  more  refined 
style  is  not  appropriate  to  the  pulpit ;  but,  let 
its  refinement  be  what  it  may,  it  should  have 
these  characteristics  of  simplicity,  point,  and 
colloquial  directness.  This  is  the  style  of  true 
eloquence  ;  ornament  pertains  to  imagination, 
and  imagination  belongs  to  poetry;  but  poetry 
and  oratory  are  distinct.  Genuine  oratory  is  too 
earnest  to  admit  of  much  ornament.  Its  figures 
are  few,  and  always  brief.  Its  language  is  the 
language  of  the  passions,  not  of  the  fancy,  and 
the  passions  never  utter  themselves  in  embel- 

Vol.  II.— 9 


130 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


lished  phrases,  but  always  directly,  pungently 
The  great  mistake  of  modern  oratory,  especially 
in  the  pulpit,  is,  that  we  have  confounded  it 
with  poetry. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  USE  OF  MONEY,  WITH  EX¬ 
AMPLES. 

“Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  mammon .” — Christ. 

We  plan  incessantly  for  the  pecuniary  inte¬ 
rests  of  religion,  and  yet  how  little  comparatively 
is  done  !  Where  is  the  fault  ?  Doubtless  sys¬ 
tems  and  agents  are  requisite  ;  but  the  great 
difficulty  to  be  surmounted  is,  after  all,  that 
stern  and  common-place  one,  the  selfishness  of 
the  human  heart.  Hence  the  ever-reiterated 
assaults  of  the  Scriptures  on  “  covetousness, 
which  is  idolatry  ”  I  wish  to  record  a  word  on 
the  subject,  and  would  to  God  it  might  be  a 
forcible  one. 

The  proper  use  of  money  by  Christian  men 
is  a  question  without  any  definite  shape  to 
most  minds.  Wesley’s  sermon  on  it  is  seldom 
read  among  us,  and  everywhere  apparently  dis¬ 
regarded.  Now  and  then  a  remarkably  pure 

minded  Christian,  like  Cobb,  Goodell,  &c. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


131 


catches  the  true  idea  of  the  New  Testament 
respecting  it ;  but,  alas !  how  few  feel  that 
they  are  “  bought  with  a  price,  and  are  not 
their  own !”  Many  of  the  Christian  poor  do 
feel  this  sentiment,  and  live  in  accordance  with 
it,  for  their  temptations  to  feel  otherwise  are 
not  strong;  but  such  is  the  perverting  influence 
of  prosperity  that  its  exemplification  among  the 
rich  is  an  anomaly  neither  demanded  nor  ex¬ 
pected  by  the  church.  And  yet,  Christian 
reader,  those  rigorous  sentences  of  the  New 
Testament  on  the  use  and  dangers  of  money 
are  stern  and  abiding  truths.  Heaven  and 
earth  may  pass  away,  but  one  jot  or  one  tittle 
will  not  pass  from  them.  They  may  be  forgot¬ 
ten,  or  depreciated,  as  insignificant  common¬ 
places  now  ;  but  they  will  flame  out  on  the 
books  of  final  judgment,  and  you  will  stand  or 
fall  by  them  for  ever.  Every  accumulating 
dollar  is  with  you  either  an  instrument  of  good 
or  a  sinking  weight.  Are  you,  then,  prosper¬ 
ing,  are  you  laying  up  treasure  upon  earth — 
you,  the  redeemed  child  of  Him  who  had  not 
where  to  lay  his  head,  and  who,  though  he 
was  rich,  yet  for  your  sake  became  poor  ? 
Pause,  then,  and  examine  your  stewardship. 
Perhaps  you  are  old  and  descending  to  your 
grave,  and  yet,  through  years  of  accumulation, 

2 


132  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

have  not  once  examined  this  point,  or  estimated 
how  much  could  be  spared  from  your  just  wants 
for  the  cause  of  God.  Would  to  God  that  this 
word  of  warning  could  arrest  you  a  moment  and 
direct  your  thoughts  intently  on  the  question. 
A  thousand  paltry  suggestions  are  now  doubtless 
trying  to  divert  you  from  it ;  but  O  !  permit  them 
not ;  think,  think  this  once  on  the  subject,  and 
remember,  while  thinking,  that,  on  your  right 
and  on  your  left,  before  you  and  behind  you, 
millions  are  sinking  into  eternal  death — millions 
whom  your  Lord  redeemed  by  the  blood  and 
agony  through  which  you  have  hope  ! 

Do  you  ask,  What  would  you  have  me  do  ? 
I  answer,  Be  more  definite  in  your  contribu¬ 
tions  to  the  cause  of  God.  Investigate  tho¬ 
roughly  your  affairs,  and  ascertain  how  much 
is  requisite  as  the  capital  of  your  business 
when  prudently  conducted,  and  there,  in  the 
fear  of  God,  fix  an  inexorable  limit  to  it — from 
its  annual  income  deduct  what  is  requisite  for 
your  temperate  livelihood  and  the  education  of 
your  children,  consecrate  the  rest  to  God,  and 
at  death  leave  a  suitable  part  of  the  capital  to 
your  children,  to  be  used  in  a  like  manner  for 
their  subsistence  and  the  good  of  the  world. 
What !  must  I  do  so  if  it  is  several  thousands 

a  year?  Yes,  if  it  is  several  hundred  thou- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


133 


sands.  Shrink  not  at  this.  A  worldling,  with¬ 
out  the  love  of  man  and  the  hope  of  heaven, 
may  shrink ;  but  you  are  an  “  heir  of  glory  — 

“Yonder’s  your  house  and  portion  fair, 

Your  treasure  and  your  heart  are  there, 

And  your  abiding  home 

and  in  your  pilgrimage  thither  you  linger  here 
only  to  procure  and  use  the  means  of  salvation 
for  others.  Alas  !  how  have  you  utterly  forgot¬ 
ten  the  use  of  these  means,  and  hoarded  them 
while  the  world  has  been  perishing!  The 
blood  of  souls  may  stain  your  hands,  Christian 
brother;  haste  and  wash  it  away.  Would  you 
retain  your  treasures  for  the  happiness  they 
may  procure  ?  O  heed  me  !  I  can  tell  you  of 
happiness,  the  purest  in  this  world,  which  may 
be  purchased  by  them — it  is  the  happiness  of 
knowing  that  they  are  all  consecrated  to  God. 
This  consciousness  will  sweeten  your  days  and 
irradiate  your  nights.  Are  you  old  ?  it  will  re¬ 
store  the  gladness  of  your  youth  :  are  you  sink¬ 
ing  with  declining  health?  it  will  accompany 
you,  like  an  angel  of  bliss,  into  the  grave :  are 
you  young?  it  will  shed  sunlight  over  your 
coming  years. 

Names  have  been  referred  to  which  are  ex¬ 
amples  of  the  course  here  recommended.  In  a 

2 


134  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

late  publication  a  writer  mentions  a  case  not  the 
less  noble  for  being  humble.  He  says : — 

“  Meeting  with  a  pious  young  mechanic,  who 
had  lately  read  the  ‘  Memoir  of  Normand  Smith,’ 
he  spoke  to  this  effect : — ‘  Several  years  I  have 
given  about  one-fourth  of  the  profits  of  my  call¬ 
ing  to  charitable  purposes,  and  have  merely 
saved  enough  to  keep  my  little  family  above 
want,  should  I  be  called  away  by  death  ;  and 
so  soon  as  I  reach  that  point,  instead  of  giving 
one-fourth,  I  will  give  all  my  profits,  and  thus 
follow  Normand  Smith  as  he  followed  Christ; 
for  I  fully  accord  with  the  sentiment  expressed 
in  his  Memoir.’” 

This  is  an  example  for  the  mechanic  and  the 
poor.  The  passage  in  Mr.  Smith’s  Memoir 
referred  to  is  so  pertinent  that  I  cannot  forbear 
quoting  it: — 

“  In  regard  to  pursuing  business  with  the 
view  of  getting  property  to  be  used  for  the 
Lord,  a  volume  ought  to  be  written  on  this  sub¬ 
ject.  Christian  men  of  business  do  by  no 
means  feel  its  importance  as  they  ought.  At 
a  time  like  this,  when  funds  are  so  much  need¬ 
ed  to  send  the  gospel  through  the  world,  I  see 
not  why  young  men  of  enterprise  and  piety  may 
not  and  ought  not  to  devote  themselves  to  busi¬ 
ness  for  the  sole  purpose  of  accumulating  means 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  135 

£o  carry  forward  the  benevolent  operations  of 
the  day.  There  are  some  who  now  act  on  this 
principle.  The  number  ought  to  be  greatly  in¬ 
creased.  There  ought  to  be  missionary  trades¬ 
men  and  merchants  just  as  much  as  missionary 
schoolmasters  and  preachers — men  prosecuting 
business  for  the  great  purpose  of  getting  to  give 
into  the  treasury  of  the  Lord.  Nor  can  there 
be  a  doubt  that  all  who  should  act  on  this  prin¬ 
ciple  would  lay  up,  both  for  themselves  and 
their  families,  not  only  a  good ,  but  the  best , 
foundation  for  a  time  of  need.  It  has  been 
thought  by  some  that  Mr.  Smith  went  be¬ 
yond  the  demands  of  Christian  duty  in  giving 
so  large  a  portion  of  his  property  to  benevo¬ 
lent  purposes.  Of  this  he  was  certainly  the 
rightful  judge.  Having  made  what  he  deem¬ 
ed  a  competent  provision  for  his  wife  and  chil¬ 
dren,  he  felt  that  what  remained  was  the 
Lord’s,  and  to  him  he  gave  it :  and  though  the 
selfish  may  wonder,  and  the  wealthy  deem  it 
injudicious,  the  unrolled  records  of  eternity,  1 
cannot  doubt,  will  show  that  he  acted  with  the 
soundest  Christian  discretion — that  he  did  what 
was  best  for  his  family,  as  well  as  what  was 
right  and  pleasing  to  his  divine  Lord.  His  fa¬ 
therless  children  have  a  better  portion  than  of 

silver  and  gold,  and  their  prospects  of  happi 

2 


136 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


ness,  liere  and  hereafter,  are  far  greater  than  if 
they  had  been  left  heirs,  each,  to  an  estate  of 
tens  of  thousands.” 

We  have  a  striking  example  also  in  the  his¬ 
tory  of  Solomon  Goodell,  of  Vermont.  He  was 
truly  one  of  God’s  noblemen,  and  is  no  hyper¬ 
bolical  model  for  all  Christian  men  of  business. 
Jeremiah  Evarts,  himself  one  of  the  excellent 
of  the  earth,  has  recorded  some  facts  in  his  his¬ 
tory  which  I  condense. 

His  property  could  not,  at  any  time,  have 
been  sold  for  five  thousand  dollars,  but  he  pur¬ 
sued  a  course  of  charity,  as  a  business  of  life , 
with  a  laborious  self-denial,  and  an  enlarged 
Catholicism,  which  unitedly  formed  a  character 
of  Christian  heroism,  as  rare  as  it  is  honorable. 

About  the  year  1800  Mr.  Evarts  observed  a 
donation  of  one  hundred  dollars  to  the  Connecti¬ 
cut  Missionary  Society,  published  in  the  annual 
accounts  as  from  Mr.  Goodell.  Such  donations 
were,  at  that  time,  very  uncommon  in  this  coun¬ 
try,  and  in  regard  to  that  society  nearly  or  quite 
unprecedented.  The  thought  occurred,  that, 
doubtless,  some  gentleman  of  independent  for¬ 
tune  had  taken  up  his  residence  in  the  interioi 
of  Vermont,  and  that  he  considered  the  society 
a  good  chanel  for  his  beneficence.  This  con¬ 
clusion  was  strengthened  by  seeing  a  similar 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


137 


donation  from  the  same  source,  at  the  return  of 
each  successive  year  for  a  considerable  period. 

When  the  American  Board  of  Foreign  Mis¬ 
sions  began  its  operations,  Mr.  Goodell  did  not 
wait  for  an  agent  to  visit  him,  but  sent  a  mes¬ 
sage  (or  came  himself)  more  than  fifty  miles,  to 
a  member  of  the  board,  saying  that  he  wished 
to  subscribe  five  hundred  dollars  for  immediate 
use,  and  one  thousand  dollars  for  the  permanent 
fund.  He  sent  fifty  dollars  as  earnest  money, 
and  said  he  would  forward  the  remaining  four 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  as  soon  as  he  could 
raise  that  sum ;  and  would  pay  the  interest  an¬ 
nually  upon  the  one  thousand  dollars,  till  the 
principal  should  be  paid.  This  engagement  he 
punctually  complied  with,  paying  the  interest, 
and,  just  before  his  death,  transferring  notes  and 
bonds  secured  by  mortgages,  which  (including 
the  one  thousand  dollars  above  mentioned) 
amounted  to  one  thousand  seven  hundred  and 
eight  dollars  and  thirty-seven  cents  ;  that  is,  a 
new  donation  was  made  of  seven  hundred  and 
eight  dollars  and  thirty-seven  cents,  to  which 
was  afterward  added  another  bond  and  mortgage 
of  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

Mr.  Goodell  had  made  what  he  thought  suit¬ 
able  provision  for  his  children,  as  they  passed 
through  life.  After  consulting  his  wife,  he  left 

2 


138 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


her  such  a  portion  of  his  estate  as  was  satisfac¬ 
tory  to  her,  gave  several  small  legacies,  and 
made  the  board  his  residuary  legatee. 

On  visiting  Mr.  Goodell  at  his  house,  you 
would  find  no  gentleman  with  an  independent 
fortune  ;  but  a  plain  man,  in  moderate  circum¬ 
stances,  on  one  of  the  rudest  spots  in  the  neigh¬ 
borhood  of  the  Green  Mountains,  every  dollar 
of  whose  property  was  either  gained  by  severe 
personal  labor,  or  saved  by  strict  frugality,  or 
received  as  interest  on  small  sums  lent  to  his 
neighbors.  His  house  was  comfortable  ;  but, 
with  the  farm  on  which  it  stood,  was  worth  only 
between  seven  hundred  and  a  thousand  dol¬ 
lars.  His  income  was  derived  principally  from 
a  dairy. 

We  have  a  most  interesting  example  in  the 
case  of  Mr.  Cobb.  The  following  statements 
are  condensed  from  a  sketch  published  by  the 
American  Baptist  Publication  Society  : — 

Mr.  Cobb  resolved  at  the  commencement  of 
his  religious  life  that  he  would  serve  the  Sa¬ 
viour,  with  all  his  power,  in  that  sphere  which 
seemed  particularly  assigned  to  him.  God  en¬ 
dowed  him  with  peculiar  talents  for  business,  so 
that  he  acquired  property  with  great  rapidity ; 
and,  if  he  had  chosen  to  devote  himself  to  the 
narrow  work  of  amassing  wealth,  he  might  per- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


139 


haps,  if  he  had  lived,  have  become  a  rival  of 
Gerard.  But  he  had  justly  regarded  his  talent 
for  business  as  an  instrument  which  he  ought 
to  employ  for  the  glory  of  his  Saviour.  He  felt 
it  to  be  his  duty  to  use  it  in  earning  money  for 
the  cause  of  God,  on  precisely  the  same  princi¬ 
ple  that  it  is  the  duty  of  the  minister  to  devote 
his  talents  for  preaching  to  the  service  of  the 
Lord  Jesus.  He  accordingly,  in  November, 
1821,  drew  up  and  subscribed  the  following  very 
remarkable  document : — 

“  By  the  grace  of  God  I  will  never  be  worth 
more  than  fifty  thousand  dollars. 

“  By  the  grace  of  God  I  will  give  one-fourth 
the  net  profits  of  my  business  to  charitable  and 
religious  uses. 

“  If  I  am  ever  worth  twenty  thousand  dollars, 
I  will  give  one  half  of  my  net  profits  ;  and  if  I 
am  ever  worth  thirty  thousand  dollars,  I  will 
give  three-fourths,  and  the  whole  after  fifty  thou¬ 
sand  dollars.  So  help  me  God,  or  give  to  a 
more  faithful  steward,  and  set  me  aside.” 

To  this  covenant  he  adhered  with  conscien¬ 
tious  fidelity.  He  distributed  the  profits  of  his 
business  with  an  increasing  ratio  from  year  to 
year,  till  he  had  reached  the  point  which  he  had 
fixed  as  the  limit  of  his  property,  and  then  he 

gave  to  the  cause  of  God  all  the  money  which  he 

2 


140  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

earned.  At  one  time,  finding  that  his  property 
had  increased  beyond  fifty  thousand  dollars,  he 
at  once  devoted  the  surplus,  seven  thousand  five 
hundred  dollars,  as  a  foundation  for  a  professor¬ 
ship  in  the  Newton  Theological  Institution,  to 
which  he  gave,  during  his  life,  at  least  twice 
that  sum.  So  scrupulous  was  he  in  his  adhe¬ 
rence  to  the  covenant  which  he  had  made,  that 
when  peculiar  circumstances  required  him  to 
retain  in  his  possession  more  than  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  he  consulted  judicious  friends  whether 
he  might  do  so  consistently  with  the  spirit  of 
his  pledge,  provided  he  always  held  the  sur¬ 
plus  as  really  belonging  to  the  cause  of  God. 
Here  is  the  secret  of  that  wonderful  liberality 
which  cheered  so  many  hearts,  and  gave 
vigor  to  so  many  institutions  and  plans  of  be¬ 
nevolence.  It  sprung  from  steady  religious 
principles :  it  was  the  fruit  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
He  always  felt  that  God  had  bestowed  on  him 
a  rich  blessing,  in  enabling  him  to  serve  his 
cause.  On  his  death  bed  he  said  to  a  friend, 
in  allusion  to  the  resolutions  quoted  above,  “  By 
the  grace  of  God — nothing  else — by  the  grace 
of  God,  I  have  been  enabled,  under  the  influ¬ 
ence  of  those  resolutions,  to  give  away  more 
than  forty  thousand  dollars.  How  good  the 
Lord  has  been  to  me  l” 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


141 


But  Mr.  Cobb  did  not  wait  till  he  had  acquired 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  before  he  began  to  devote 
his  money  to  religious  uses.  While  he  was 
yet  young,  and  comparatively  a  poor  man,  re¬ 
cently  established  in  business,  he  resolved  to 
give  one-fourth  of  the  net  proceeds  of  his  busi¬ 
ness  to  benevolent  purposes.  It  was  then  un¬ 
certain  what  would  be  his  success  ;  but  he  felt 
it  to  be  his  duty  to  begin  then,  with  the  reso¬ 
lution  to  increase  the  proportion  if  God  should 
prosper  him.  Some  Christians  say  they  must 
first  make  provision  for  themselves  and  their 
families,  and  then  they  will  distribute  their  mo¬ 
ney  liberally.  Mr.  Cobb  did  not  act  thus.  He, 
from  the  beginning,  gave  a  large  proportion  of 
his  income,  and  trusted  in  God  that  whatever 
should  be  necessary  for  himself  and  his  family 
would  be  supplied. 

I  have  spoken  emphatically  on  this  subject, 
but  not  too  strongly,  for  here  is  the  root  of  the 
whole  matter.  We  have  no  definite  principles 
of  duty  in  our  charities;  some  give  liberally, 
but  it  is  casually.  Before  the  church  will  be 
fitted  for  its  great  mission,  its  business  men 
must  be  brought  to  consider  their  business  re¬ 
lations  to  God  as  strictly  as  they  do  those  which 
regard  men,  their  accounts  must  be  daily  cast 

up  with  reference  to  the  judgment  day,  and  her 

2 


142 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


youth  must  be  trained  to  the  above  principles. 
I  know  not  how  to  dismiss  the  subject.  There 
are  some  reading  these  lines  to  whom  they  are 
applicable  ;  happy,  thrice  happy,  would  the 
writer  be  if  he  knew  what  argument  to  adduce, 
what  words  to  use,  by  which  to  impress  indeli¬ 
bly  their  minds.  Again,  Christian  brother,  you 
are  entreated  not  to  evade  this  appeal.  It  is 
made  to  you — made  in  the  name  of  your  Re¬ 
deemer  and  your  perishing  race.  If  it  has 
never  been  made  to  you  before,  it  is  now  made, 
however  feebly.  If  you  drop  this  volume  and 
go  into  the  world  resuming  your  usual  indiffer 
ence,  remember,  O  remember,  that  your  forget¬ 
fulness  cannot  destroy  the  inexorable  obliga¬ 
tions  of  duty,  and  that  the  impressions  of  this 
hour,  though  forgotten,  will  revive  when  the 
dead  awake. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


143 


BISHOP  ROBERTS. 

“  The  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness." — Matthew. 

I  have  received  this  evening  the  melancholy 
intelligence  of  Bishop  Roberts’  death.  Many  a 
labor-worn  veteran  of  the  itinerancy  will  weep 
as  the  sorrowful  news  spreads ;  for  he  was  be¬ 
loved  among  us  as  an  old  commander  is  among 
the  troops  whom  he  has  led  to  battle  and  vic¬ 
tory. 

A  score  of  reminiscences  of  the  sainted  old 
man  revive  in  my  memory :  his  dignified  bear¬ 
ing,  his  white  locks,  his  noble  brow,  his  mild 
blue  eye — the  most  benignant  I  ever  saw — his 
tranquil  temper,  which  I  never  saw  ruffled,  his 
extreme  modesty,  his  exquisite  delicacy  of 
feeling  so  singularly  combined  with  the  hardy 
bon  hommie  of  the  backwoodsman  ;  and,  above 
all,  the  unction  of  his  piety.  Ah,  he  was  a 
man  to  be  loved  while  living  and  to  be  remem¬ 
bered  pathetically  when  dead — the  St.  John  of 
our  apostleship ! 

Bishop  Roberts  had  no  one  trait  which,  by 
extraordinary  prominence,  gave  him  unique¬ 
ness,  or  what  is  usually  called  greatness.  The 
distinction  and  beauty  of  his  character  was  its 
equability.  I  doubt  if  he  ever  felt  a  quarter 

2 


144 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


of  an  hour’s  irritation  since  the  day  of  his  con¬ 
version.  A  symmetrical  mind  is  truly  great, 
though  seldom  so  appreciated  ;  it  is  at  once  rare 
and  capable.  It  is  what  is  most  requisite,  next 
to  holiness,  for  the  high  office  which  the  bishop 
sustained  in  the  church,  and  his  election  to  it 
was  owing  in  a  great  measure  to  the  estimation 
in  which  his  judicious  constituents  held  this 
qualification.  It  was  perceived  and  valued  in 
him  by  the  older  preachers,  and  especially  by 
Asbury,  at  his  first  appearance  among  them,  at 
the  Baltimore  General  Conference  of  1808. 
He  had  traveled  to  Baltimore,  from  the  then 
western  wilds,  with  bread  and  provender  in  his 
saddle-bags,  and  but  one  dollar  in  his  pocket. 
He  appeared  before  them  in  rude  guise  and  un¬ 
pretending  humility,  but  was  immediately  appre¬ 
ciated  by  the  preachers  and  people,  and  was 
soon  after  transferred  by  the  sagacious  Asbury 
to  that  city.  In  a  few  years  he  was  appointed 
to  Philadelphia ;  from  the  city  station  he  was 
raised  to  the  presiding  eldership  of  the  district ; 
and  it  was  in  that  city,  while  presiding  in  the 
annual  conference,  in  the  absence  of  a  bishop, 
that  his  equanimity,  his  calm  and  discriminating 
judgment,  and  other  corresponding  qualifica¬ 
tions,  suggested  his  nomination  to  the  episco¬ 
pacy.  The  next  month  he  was  elected  bishop, 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


145 


at  Baltimore.  I  have  always  looked  upon  his 
election  as  providential.  The  great,  field  of 
Methodism  was  to  be  the  west.  It  was  then 
rapidly  opening  ;  and  Roberts  was  the  man  for 
the  west.  He  was  a  child  of  the  wilderness  ; 
he  had  been  educated  to  its  hardy  habits  ;  his 
rugged  frame  and  characteristic  qualities,  all 
designated  him  as  a  great  evangelist  for  the 
great  west.  Though  born  in  Maryland,  he  was 
removed  in  early  childhood  to  a  wilderness  part 
of  Pennsylvania,  then  on  the  border  of  civiliza¬ 
tion.  Here  he  spent  his  youth  in  the  labors  of 
the  “  settler.”  When  the  region  began  to  be 
extensively  settled,  he  pushed  forward  with  a 
few  brave  pioneers  into  Chenango,  at  that  time 
public  land  offered  as  a  bonus  to  emigrants. 
There  he  built  his  log  cabin,  and  dwelt  com¬ 
paratively  out  of  sight  of  civilized  man,  tilling 
the  earth  in  summer,  and  hunting  the  bear,  the 
deer,  and  the  racoon,  in  winter.  He  became 
one  of  the  most  expert  huntsmen  of  his  day, 
and,  in  after  life,  often  surprised  veteran  marks¬ 
men,  on  the  far  frontier,  by  the  deadly  certainty 
of  his  fire.  The  entire  winter  has  he  spent  at 
his  solitary  log  cabin,  twenty  miles  away  from 
any  human  habitation,  and  cheered  only  by  the 
faithful  company  of  his  favorite  sister,  who  pre¬ 
pared  his  repasts  of  wild  meat. 

Vol.  II.— 10 


146 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS, 


The  refinements  of  the  Atlantic  cities  could 
not  repress  the  ruling  passion  of  his  youth — it 
followed  him  through  life,  and  was  strong  even 
in  death — he  lived  a  circuit  preacher  as  he  had 
a  “  settler,”  and  a  bishop  as  he  had  a  circuit 
preacher,  in  a  log  cabin  ;  and  died  in  a  log  cabin. 
No  sooner  had  he  been  elected  a  bishop  than  he 
fixed  his  episcopal  residence  in  the  old  cabin  at 
Chenango  ;  and  his  next  removal  was  to  In¬ 
diana,  then  the  far  west,  where  his  episcopal 
palace  was  a  log  cabin  built  by  his  own  hands, 
and  his  furniture  rude  fabrications  from  the 
forest  wood,  made  with  such  tools  as  he  had 
carried  in  his  emigrant  wagon.  I  have  been  au¬ 
thentically  informed,  that  the  first  meal  of  the 
sainted  bishop  and  his  family  in  this  new  abode 
consisted  only  of  roasted  potatoes,  and  that  it 
was  begun  and  ended  with  hearty  thanksgiving. 
Here  he  lived  in  the  true  simplicity  of  frontier 
life,  toiling,  at  his  leisure,  in  the  fields.  The 
allowance  for  his  family  expenses,  besides  two 
hundred  per  annum  for  quarterage,  was,  during 
most  of  his  episcopal  career,  from  two  hundred 
to  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  per  annum  ;  at 
least  this  was  the  case  till  1836.  Such  is  the 
pomp  of  the  Methodist  episcopacy  ! 

Simple  and  severe  as  this  western  life  was, 
it  was  legitimate  to  the  character  and  position 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


147 


of  Roberts.  He  was  born  unto  it ;  it  comported 
with  the  new  field,  the  great  wilderness  diocese 
of  the  Mississippi  Yalley,  into  which  he  was 
thrust.  There  was  in  it  a  propriety  with  the 
genius  of  the  country,  with  the  tout  ensemble  of 
thr  circumstances  of  time  and  place.  Such 
was  the  life  for  such  a  field  ;  and  Roberts  was 
the  man  for  both  such  a  field  and  such  a  life. 
Let  us  learn  to  follow  providence  in  all  things  ; 
there  is  always  a  beautiful  compatibility  be¬ 
tween  its  ends  and  its  agents.  The  history  of 
our  church  is  full  of  such  examples. 

This  congeniality  of  the  bishop’s  character 
with  western  life  attracted  about  him  the  strong 
affections  of  the  western  preachers.  They  felt 
that  he  was  legitimately  one  among  them.  In 
his  latter  years  they  venerated  and  loved  him 
as  the  patriarch  of  the  wilderness.  His  visit  to 
the  last  Missouri  Conference,  as  described  in 
our  papers  at  the  time,  was  an  example.  He 
had  spent  some  months  before  in  a  most  labori¬ 
ous  visitation  among  the  Indian  missions  beyond 
Arkansas  and  Missouri.  His  health  was  evi¬ 
dently  undermined  by  years  and  toils  ;  and  the 
time  of  his  departure  was  at  hand.  The  preach¬ 
ers  looked  upon  him  as  peculiarly  their  own 
bishop — their  father  ;  and,  while  trembling  with 

infirmities  he  addressed  them,  at  the  reading  of 

2 


148 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  appointments,  in  the  crowded  court-house 
of  Jefferson  city  :  they  wept  aloud,  invoking,  in 
audible  ejaculations,  blessings  on  the  old  evan¬ 
gelist.  He  had  presided  at  their  first  conference, 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  before,  when  it 
included  nearly  a  third  of  the  great  Mississippi 
Valley,  and  had  attended  more  than  half  its  ses* 
sions  since  :  but  three  or  four  of  its  original 
members  remained  :  he  made  thrilling  allusions 
to  the  old  preachers  who  had  gone  up  to  their 
reward  ;  and  gave  much  information  respecting 
the  progress  of  their  work.  As  he  alluded  to 
his  own  health,  and  the  little  prospect  of  ever 
meeting  them  again  in  this  world,  his  voice 
faltered,  he  paused,  and  they  all  wept  together 
like  the  elders  of  Ephesus  when  taking  leave 
of  Paul.  “  I  feel,”  said  the  bishop,  “  like  a 
father  leaving  his  children” — words  that  went 
to  the  hearts  of  all  present,  and  called  forth 
tears  and  irrepressible  sobs  from  preachers  and 
spectators.  It  was  his  final  leave — in  about 
six  months  he  ascended  to  heaven. 

As  usual  with  equable  minds,  Bishop  Roberts 
was  cheerful  and  amiable.  His  piety  was  never 
gloomy,  though  seldom  ecstatic.  You  felt  at  the 
first  introduction  that  he  must  be  one  of  the  most 
agreeable  companions ;  that  he  could  calmly 
endure  afflictions,  and  compassionately  forgive 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


149 


offenses  ;  that  he  was  fitted  for  domestic  life 
and  permanent  friendships. 

As  is  natural  with  such  a  disposition,  he  was 
generous  and  liberal.  I  have  heard  of  numerous 
examples  of  his  benevolence  from  the  best  au¬ 
thority.  Those  who  knew  well  his  private 
affairs  have  estimated  that  his  pecuniary  con¬ 
tributions,  during  his  ministerial  life,  amounted 
to  more  than  all  his  receipts  from  the  church  for 
domestic  expenses.  He  was  especially  liberal 
to  our  literary  institutions.  He  prized  learning 
from  a  sense  of  his  own  deficiency  in  it,  having 
had  but  about  three  months’  instruction  after  his 
seventh  year.  To  four  of  our  colleges  he  gave, 
at  intervals,  one  hundred  dollars  each.  In  1826, 
when  in  New-Orleans,  he  found  the  brethren 
attempting,  with  few  resources,  to  erect  a  cheap 
church  ;  he  sold  his  horse,  and,  giving  them  all 
it  brought — a  hundred  dollars — made  his  way 
with  many  difficulties  to  Nashville,  where  his 
friends  provided  him  with  a  horse  and  funds 
with  which  to  finish  his  journey.  While  at 
home,  in  the  periods  between  his  episcopal 
visitations,  he  labored  hard  in  the  fields,  that 
he  might  have  the  means  of  indulging  this  noble 
propensity  of  his  generous  mind.  He  was  as 
whole-hearted  in  his  labors.  According  to  his 

routes,  the  last  year  he  lived,  he  must  have 

2 


150  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

traveled  between  five  and  six  thousand  miles, 
visiting  some  half  dozen  states  and  nearly  an 
equal  number  of  Indian  nations. 

As  a  preacher  he  was  always  interesting,  and 
frequently  eloquent.  His  passions  never  had 
undue  play  in  the  pulpit.  A  thoroughly  sys¬ 
tematic  arrangement  of  his  subject,  readiness 
of  thought,  fluent,  and  generally  correct  diction, 
and  a  facile  yet  dignified  manner,  were  his  cha¬ 
racteristics  in  the  desk.  His  large  person — 
corpulent,  and  nearly  six  feet  in  height — his 
strongly-marked  features — elevated  forehead — 
and  manners  of  extreme  simplicity  and  cor¬ 
diality,  gave  to  his  presence  always  the  air  of 
a  superior  man — one  to  be  remembered  and 
loved. 

It  is  certainly  no  small  tribute  to  his  charac¬ 
ter  to  say  that  its  greatest  apparent  defect  was 
the  excess  of  a  very  amiable  quality — he  was 
constitutionally  modest.  In  his  earlier  life  this 
disposition  rendered  him  painfully  diffident, 
and  throughout  his  career  it  deterred  him  from 
many  bold  and  energetic  measures,  which  his 
position  and  abilities  justified,  and  which  might 
have  been  of  wide  influence  on  the  church. 
He  often  referred  facetiously  to  instances  of 
his  early  diffidence.  For  a  long  time  after  his 

appointment  as  class-leader,  among  his  rustic 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


151 


neighbors,  be  could  not  assume  courage  enough 
to  address  them  individually,  and  be  bad  ac¬ 
tually  to  be  superseded  by  another  leader  till 
be  conquered  this  timidity.  In  his  first  attempt 
at  public  exhortation,  he  suddenly  sat  down 
appalled  at  the  intent  look  of  a  good  man  whose 
favorable  interest  he  took  for  disapprobation. 
At  another  time,  when  he  was  expected  to  ex¬ 
hort,  he  was  so  alarmed  as  to  retire  in  agony 
and  conceal  himself  in  a  barn.  In  the  third 
attempt  he  proceeded  some  time  with  good 
effect,  but,  fearing  he  had  made  a  blunder, 
stopped  short  in  confusion. 

In  after  years  this  extreme  diffidence  became 
a  subdued  modesty,  not  interfering  with  his  or¬ 
dinary  duties,  but  deterring  him  from  most  novel 
or  experimental  plans,  however  hopeful,  and 
leading  often  to  ludicrous  mistakes  among  those 
who  did  not  know  him.  When  stopping  in  his 
travels  among  strangers,  he  usually  assumed  no 
other  pretensions  than  those  of  a  private  Chris¬ 
tian  ;  and  frequently  it  was  not  till  the  family 
worship  declared  his  spirit  and  talents  that  his 
ministerial  character  was  supposed.  Under 
such  circumstances  he  has  sometimes  attended 
class-meeting  with  his  host,  and  received  warm 
and  pointed  exhortations  from  zealous  class- 

leaders.  On  returning  to  the  west,  after  a 

2 


152 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


General  Conference,  he  once  applied  at  the 
house  of  a  Methodist  family  to  which  he  had 
been  recommended  for  entertainment.  He  was 
as  usual  humble  in  dress,  and  dusty  and  weary. 
The  family,  taking  him  to  be  a  rustic  traveler, 
permitted  him  to  put  up  and  feed  his  horse,  and 
take  his  seat  in  the  sitting-room.  Supper  was 
over,  and  no  one  took  the  trouble  to  inquire 
if  he  had  taken  any  on  the  way.  The  preacher 
of  the  circuit  was  stopping  at  the  same  house — 
he  was  young,  frivolous,  and  foppish — and  spent 
the  evening  in  gay  conversation  with  the  daugh¬ 
ters  of  the  family,  alluding  occasionally  and 
contemptuously  to  the  “  old  man,”  who  sat 
silently  in  a  corner.  The  good  bishop,  after 
sitting  a  long  time,  with  no  other  attention  than 
these  allusions,  respectfully  requested  to  be 
shown  to  bed.  The  chamber  was  over  the 
sitting-room,  and,  while  upon  his  knees  praying 
with  paternal  feeling  for  the  faithless  young 
preacher,  he  still  heard  the  gay  jest  and  rude 
laugh.  At  last  the  family  retired  without  domes¬ 
tic  worship.  The  young  preacher  slept  in  the 
same  room  with  the  bishop.  He  laid  down 
without  prayer. 

“  Well,  old  man,”  said  he,  as  he  got  into  bed, 
i{  are  you  asleep  yet  ?” 

“  I  am  not,  sir,”  replied  the  bishop. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


153 


“  Where  have  you  come  from  ?” 

“  From  east  of  the  mountains.” 

“From  east  of  the  mountains,  aye — wha 
place  ?” 

“  Baltimore,  sir.” 

“  Baltimore,  aye — the  seat  of  our  General 
Conference — did  you  hear  anything  about  it ? 
We  expect  Bishop  Roberts  to  stop  here  on  his 
way  home.” 

“Yes,  sir,”  replied  the  bishop,  humbly,  “it 
ended  before  I  left.” 

“  Did  you  ever  see  Bishop  Roberts  ?” 

“Yes,  sir,  often;  we  left  Baltimore  toge¬ 
ther.” 

“  You  left  Baltimore  together  ?” 

“  Yes,  sir.” 

“  What’s  your  name,  my  old  friend  ?” 

“  Roberts,  sir.” 

“  Roberts  !  Roberts  !  Excuse  me,  sir,  are 
you  related  to  the  bishop  ?” 

“  They  usually  call  me  Bishop  Roberts, 
sir.” 

“  Bishop  Roberts  !  Bishop  Roberts  !  are  you 
Bishop  Roberts,  sir?”  said  the  young  man,  leap¬ 
ing  out  of  bed,  and  trembling  with  agitation. 

Embarrassed  and  confounded,  he  implored  the 
good  man’s  pardon,  insisted  upon  calling  up  the 

family,  and  seemed  willing  to  do  anything  to 

2 


154 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


redeem  himself.  The  bishop  gave  him  an 
affectionate  admonition,  which  he  promised  with 
tears  never  to  forget ;  acknowledging,  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  had  backslidden  in  heart,  and 
deeply  lamenting  his  folly  and  his  spiritual  de¬ 
clension.  The  venerable  and  compassionate 
man  knew  the  frivolity  of  youth  ;  he  gave  hirn 
much  paternal  advice,  and  prayed  with  him. 
He  would  not  allow  the  family  to  be  called, 
though  he  had  eaten  nothing  since  breakfast. 
The  next  morning,  after  praying  again  with  the 
spirit-broken  young  preacher,  he  left  before  the 
family  had  risen,  that  he  might  save  them  a 
mortifying  explanation. 

The  circumstance  was  a  salutary  lesson  to 
the  young  itinerant ;  at  the  next  session  of  the 

-  Conference,  he  called  upon  the  bishop  a 

renewed  man  ;  he  wept  again  as  he  acknow¬ 
ledged  his  error,  and  has  since  become  a  useful 
and  eminent  minister.  Bishop  Roberts  often 
alluded  to  the  incident,  but,  through  a  commend¬ 
able  kindness,  would  never  tell  the  name  of  the 
young  preacher.*  Other  and  similarly  ludi¬ 
crous  rencounters  might  be  mentioned. 

*  This  fact  has  been  extensively  circulated,  with 
some  exaggeration,  and  with  Bishop  George  substituted 
for  Bishop  Roberts.  Bishop  Roberts  was  its  real 
subject. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS 


155 


Peace  to  the  memory  of  the  good,  the  kind 
hearted  old  man  !  His  image  is  embalmed  in  the 
affections  of  many  a  heart,  and  will  there  be 
enshrined  faithfully  through  future  years  of  pil¬ 
grimage  and  change.  He  has  passed  to  the 
society  of  his  old  co-laborers.  May  we  who 
love  his  memory  join  him  there  ! 


2 


156 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


HERETICAL  TENDENCIES  OF  METHODISM  AND 

CALVINISM. 

“  I  will  also  show  mine  opinion.” — Job’s  friend. 

I  have  just  been  reading  in  a  Calvinistic. 
paper  a  singular  charge  against  Methodism.  It 
alledges,  in  substance,  that  Methodism  tends 
to  laxity  in  religion  ;  that  “  affecting  proof”  of 
this  tendency  is  seen  in  the  numerous  additions 
made  to  Universalist  churches  from  among 
Methodists,  and  that  as  Arminianism  once  led 
the  New-England.  churches  to  Unitarianism,  so 
it  is  now,  in  connection  with  Methodism,  lead¬ 
ing  to  Universalism. 

Now  it  may  be  confidently  asserted  that  there 
is  neither  fact  nor  logic  to  sustain  this  novel 
charge.  The  history  of  Methodism  is  altoge¬ 
ther  against  it.  I  do  not  doubt  that  there  have 
been  individual  cases  of  apostasy  from  Method¬ 
ism  to  Universalism ;  but  they  are  not  charac¬ 
teristic  of  the  body  ;  they  are  not  more  frequent 
among  Methodists  than  among  most  other  evan¬ 
gelical  sects.  I  believe  I  have  some  acquaint¬ 
ance  with  Methodism,  but  am  unable  now  to 
recall  one  instance.  Such  there  may  have 
been,  and,  perhaps,  in  some  few  places  in  con¬ 
siderable  numbers,  so  as  to  form  the  nuclei  of 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  157 

Universalist  societies  ;  but  I  have  never  heard 
of  them.  I  know  not  a  single  Methodist  chapel 
perverted  to  the  use  of  Universalists.  But,  is  it 
not  a  well-known  fact,  that  such  apostasies  from 
Calvinism  have  been  frequent ;  and  that  not  a 
few  Calvinistic  houses  are  now  in  the  hands  of 
the  Universalists  ?  For  every  one  derived  from 
the  Methodists,  five  can  be  referred  to  which 
were  once  Calvinistic,  especially  in  New-Eng- 
land,  where  Universalism  succeeds  best :  there 
the  facts  are  known  and  read  of  all  men. 

Nor  is  there  logic  in  this  charge.  It  would 
seem  that  our  Calvinistic  brethren  cannot  dis¬ 
sociate  the  idea  of  religious  laxity  from  Me¬ 
thodism.  It  arises  from  their  confounding 
Methodism  with  European  Arminianism.  The 
latter  is  not  Methodism.  It  has  no  sympathy 
with  the  Pelagian  Arminianism  of  continental 
Europe.  Its  Arminianism  consists  in  its  denial 
of  pre-reprobation  and  a  limited  atonement. 
But  what,  in  the  name  of  all  logic,  is  there  in 
this  that  tends  to  religious  laxity  ?  Is  it  neces¬ 
sary,  for  the  purity  of  Christians,  that  they  be¬ 
lieve  God  has  irretrievably,  and  from  eternity, 
cast  off  most  of  the  human  race  ?  There  is  a 
rigorous  bigotry,  sometimes  taken  for  piety, 
which  may  be  produced  by  such  a  sentiment — 
but  never  genuine  piety.  Methodism  teaches 

2 


158 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  possibility  of  “  falling  from  grace,”  and  the 
necessity  of  “  working  out  our  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling.”  Does  this  savor  of  laxity  ? 
Calvinism  teaches  the  final  certainty  of  the  sal¬ 
vation  of  the  elect.  Does  this  tend  to  spiritual 
strictness  ?  Methodism  has  now  been  in  ope¬ 
ration  more  than  a  century.  Where  has  one  of 
its  churches  lapsed  into  Unitarianism  ?  But 
have  not  nearly  all  the  Unitarian  churches  of 
England  and  the  north  of  Ireland  sprung  from 
Calvinistic  Presbyterians  ;  and,  in  New-Eng- 
land,  from  Calvinistic  Congregationalists  ?  And 
how  is  it  on  the  continent  of  Europe  ?  The 
strong-holds  of  Calvinism  have  nearly  all  be¬ 
come  the  intrenchments  of  Socinianism  and 
Rationalism.  In  Geneva,  the  scene  of  Calvin’s 
labors,  there  was  not,  in  1812,  a  single  evan¬ 
gelical  preacher.  The  pulpit  in  which  he 
preached  the  “  horribile  decretum,”  as  he  calls 
it,  is  now  occupied  by  a  Socinian  ;  and  the  theo¬ 
logical  school,  where  he  lectured,  is  now  used 
for  the  preparation  of  Deistical  clergymen.  The 
few  Evangelists  who  have  lately  arisen  in  that 
city  have  revived  the  old  dogmas  ;  they  will 
find  them  the  chief  obstructions  to  their  suc¬ 
cess.  Now  what  has  caused  these  changes  ? 
The  people  of  Nevv-England  know  from  local 

observation.  It  was  the  repulsive,  the  intolerable 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


159 


character  of  the  old  theology — not  its  experi¬ 
mental  nor  its  practical,  but  its  speculative  cha¬ 
racter.  The  best  sentiments  of  human  nature 
revolted  at  its  ideas  of  the  divine  government ; 
and  men  in  flying  from  one  extreme  passed  to 
the  other ;  in  escaping  from  the  desolate  rocks 
of  Scylla  they  plunged  into  the  vortex  of  Charyb- 
dis.  Arminianism  is  the  safe  position  between 
the  two  extremes.  In  their  transition  they  could 
not  but  cross  it ;  and  hence  Arminianism  has 
been  charged  with  the  responsibility  of  their  errors. 
Arminianism  is  no  more  responsible  for  them 
than  Calvinism  is  for  the  errors  of  the  Moham¬ 
medans,  who  believe  with  Calvin  in  predesti¬ 
nation. 

The  following  three  statements  are  not  un¬ 
worthy  a  little  attention  : — 

1.  Arminianism  has  almost  always  been  com¬ 
bined  with  serious  errors  among  those  who  have 
been  repelled  from  Calvinism.  But, 

2.  There  is  no  one  doctrine  in  Arminianism 
as  preached  by  Methodists,  which  has  a  natural 
tendency  to  laxity  in  religion.  It  has  less  of 
this  liability  than  Calvinism,  logically  compared, 
doctrine  for  doctrine. 

3.  During  the  very  period  that  errors,  con¬ 
nected  with  Arminianism,  have  been  desolating 

the  Presbyterian  churches  of  old  England,  and 

2 


J  60 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


the  Congregational  of  New-England,  an  Armi- 
nian  organization  has  been  growing,  in  these 
very  countries,  into  immense  strength  and  num¬ 
bers,  spreading  itself  out  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  and,  in  this  land  at  least,  exceeding,  by 
nearly  two-thirds,  the  combined  numbers  of  the 
Congregational  and  Presbyterian  Calvinists, 
until  it  has  become  the  largest  sect  in  these 
States,  and  with  scarcely  a  defection  of  a  pastor 
or  church  to  those  heresies  which  have  raged 
in  the  former. 

Which,  then,  is  the  cause  of  these  heresies— 
Calvinism  or  Arminianism  ? 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


161 


WESLEYAN  ANECDOTES. 

“  Marvelous  things .” — Psalmist. 

Yesterday  I  spent  a  most  agreeable  after¬ 
noon  with  Rev.  R.  R.,  of  the  Wesleyan  Con¬ 
ference,  an  excellent  man,  intelligent,  refined, 
deeply  evangelical,  and  sufficiently  advanced  in 
years  to  possess,  in  combination  with  mature 
experience  and  sound  judgment,  the  mellow 
sentiments  and  cheerful  temper  of  a  ripe  old 
age.  He  was  one  of  the  colaborers  of  Wesley, 
and  abounds  in  most  entertaining  anecdotes  of 
early  Methodism.  Now,  it  so  happens  that  my 
humor  runs  in  this  current,  and  Mr.  R.’s  seemed 
perfectly  to  coalesce  with  it,  so  that  the  collo¬ 
quial  stream  flowed  rapidly  and  merrily.  I  put 
down  snatches  of  the  conversation. 

He  had  witnessed  some  of  the  extraordinary 
physical  effects  of  religious  excitement  which 
occur  at  our  camp  meetings,  and  remarked  that 
they  seldom  appear  now-a-days  on  the  other 
side  of  the  waters.  Neither  of  us  knew  how 
to  account  for  these  anomalous  circumstances 
except  on  some  yet  undiscovered  law  of  the 
nervous  system.  They  had  at  first  puzzled 
Mr.  Wesley  much;  he  believed  them  to  pro¬ 
ceed  sometimes  from  the  devil,  at  others  froiji 
Vol.  II. — 11 


162 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


divine  influence  ;  but  in  his  later  years,  dis¬ 
couraged  them  decidedly.  Mr.  R.  had  witness¬ 
ed  these  phenomena,  at  their  first  appearance, 
at  Kingswood,  and  described  them  as  altogether 
inexplicable.  The  stoutest  men  fell  to  the 
earth  as  suddenly  as  if  shot  through  the  heart ; 
bold  blasphemers  were  instantly  seized  with 
agony  and  cried  aloud  for  mercy,  and  scores 
were  sometimes  strewed  on  the  ground  at  once, 
insensible  as  dead  men.  A  traveler,  at  one 
time,  was  passing  by,  but,  on  pausing  a  moment 
to  hear  the  sermon,  was  directly  smitten  to  the 
earth,  and  lay  there  apparently  without  life.  A 
Quaker,  who  was  admonishing  the  by-standers 
against  these  strange  scenes,  as  affectation  and 
hypocrisy,  was  himself  struck  down,  as  by  an 
unseen  hand,  while  the  words  of  reproach  were 
even  upon  his  lips.  A  weaver,  a  great  disliker 
of  dissenters,  fearing  that  the  new  excitement 
would  alienate  his  neighbors  from  the  church, 
went  about  zealously  among  them  to  prove  that 
it  was  the  work  of  Satan,  and  would  endanger 
their  souls.  A  new  convert  lent  him  one  of 
Wesley’s  sermons ;  while  reading  it  he  suddenly 
turned  pale,  fell  to  the  floor,  and  roared  so  might¬ 
ily  that  the  people  ran  into  the  house  from  the 
streets  and  found  him  sweating,  weeping,  and 
screaming  in  anguish.  *  *  *  * 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


163 


Mr.  R.  referred  with  much  interest  to  many 
of  his  old  associates  in  the  itinerancy.  He  had 
never  heard  a  preacher  superior  to  Samuel 
Bradburn.  He  was  full  of  sublimity,  mighty, 
grasping  thoughts,  and  melting  pathos,  and  yet 
mingled  with  the  whole,  in  the  strongest  con¬ 
trasts,  an  exhaustless  wit.  Dr.  Coke,  said  Mr. 
R.,  used  to  declare  that  there  was  but  one  man 
whom  he  could  hear  preach  longer  than  forty- 
five  minutes,  and  he  was  Samuel  Bradburn.  A 
number  of  young  preachers  were  speaking  once 
rather  whiningly  of  having  given  up  all  for  the 
ministry.  They  put  too  much  emphasis  on  their 
sacrifices,  in  Bradburn’s  estimation  ;  he  wished 
to  rebuke  them,  and  did  it  with  his  usual  feli¬ 
city.  He  had  been  a  cobbler  himself,  as  well 
as  a  tinker,  and  most  of  the  young  men  in  the 
company  had  been  in  equally  humble  occupa¬ 
tions.  “Yes,  dear  brethren,”  exclaimed  he, 
“  some  of  you  have  had  to  sacrifice  your  all 
for  the  itinerancy ;  but  we  old  men  have  had 
our  share  of  these  trials.  As  for  myself,  I 
made  a  double  sacrifice,  for  I  gave  up  for  the 
ministry  two  of  the  best  awls  in  the  kingdom — 
a  great  sacrifice  truly  to  become  an  ambassa¬ 
dor  of  God  in  the  church  and  a  gentleman  in 
society !” 

*  #  #  #  #  *  * 


2 


164 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


Mr.  R.  spoke  with  enthusiastic  affection  of 
his  old  friend,  Gideon  Ousley,  the  apostle  of 
Methodism  in  Ireland.  Ousley,  said  he,  is  one 
of  the  most  eccentric  of  men,  yet  full  of  faith 
and  the  Holy  Ghost.  His  mind  is  strong,  and 
he  has  a  university  education.  His  family  be¬ 
long  to  the  aristocracy,  yet  he  became  a  Me¬ 
thodist  itinerant,  and  has  traveled  the  Irish 
highways,  preaching  the  gospel,  for  more  than 
twoscore  years.  He  preaches  everywhere — 
at  cock-fights,  horse-races,  fairs,  and  markets, 
and  hundreds  of  times  has  he  proclaimed  the 
gospel  on  horseback.  His  sermons  are  at  least 
three  a  day,  usually  two  in  the  open  air  and  a 
third  in  a  barn  or  meeting-house.  He  preaches 
often  in  the  Irish  language — a  speech  rich  and 
powerful  for  exhortation.  Ousley  has  rescued 
hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  of  his  countrymen 
from  the  superstitions  of  Popery.  He  has  often 
been  attacked  by  Popish  persecutors,  and  lost 
one  of  his  eyes  in  a  scuffle  with  them  ;  but 
though  frequently  beaten  and  left  for  dead,  he 
is  as  bold  as  a  lion,  and  scatters  light  among 
them  at  every  point.  Many  of  his  persecutors 
have  been  overtaken  by  unnatural  deaths,  and 
the  Papists  dread  him  as  protected  by  the  devil 
When  his  uncle,  Sir  George  Ousley,  died,  he  in¬ 
herited  his  wealth  and  title,  but  abandoned  all, 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


165 


preferring  the  honor  of  being  a  Methodist  itine¬ 
rant  above  the  estates  and  titles  of  nobility. 
Such  a  man  is  one  of  God’s  genuine  noble¬ 
men. 

#  #  *  *  T  *  *  * 

I  inquired  of  him  particularly  about  Charles 
Wesley,  of  whom  we  have  comparatively  so 
little  information  that  his  position  in  Methodist 
history  has  always  appeared  to  me  vague  if  not 
ambiguous.*  Charles  Wesley,  he  replied,  was 
a  high-churchman  :  he  could  not  appreciate  the 
mission  of  Methodism.  Much  of  his  own  mi¬ 
nisterial  conduct  was  in  violation  of  his  high- 
church  opinions,  for  his  good  feelings  could  not 
yield  to  his  prejudices.  Yet  Methodism  owes 
much  to  him ;  he  was  the  first  of  the  brothers 
converted,  and  the  first  who  received  the  appel¬ 
lation  of  Methodist.  He  stood  by  John  till  death, 
though  dissenting  from  many  of  his  measures. 

Three  elements  prevailed  in  his  mental  con¬ 
stitution — music ,  poetry ,  and  faith.  He  was  all 
soul,  from  head  to  foot ;  full  of  vivid,  though 
pensive,  enthusiasm.  He  was  an  excellent 
musician :  melody  was  sweeter  to  him  than 
honey  or  the  honey-comb ;  and  his  sons, 

*  Jackson’s  Life  of  Charles  Wesley  has  been  publish¬ 
ed  since,  one  of  the  most  entertaining  and  valuable 
memoirs  in  our  biographical  catalogue. 


2 


166 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


through  his  example,  were  prodigies  in  the  art 
from  their  infancy.  In  the  poetic  art,  who 
equals  him  among  uninspired  writers  of  the 
sacred  lyric  ?  He  was  incessantly  expressing 
himself  in  poetry.  He  has  touched  the  lips  of 
all  our  hosts  with  live  coals  from  off  the  hea¬ 
venly  altar,  and  will  touch  the  lips  of  millions 
to  come  ;  but  the  hymns  in  our  Hymn-book 
can  afford  no  idea  of  the  extent  of  his  poetical 
compositions  ;  they  would  fill  volumes,  and  they 
uniformly  possess  his  characteristic  terseness 
and  harmony.  As  is  usual  with  poetic  genius, 
he  was  subject  to  intervals  of  melancholy,  and 
often  so  profoundly  dejected  as  to  long  for  the 
relief  of  the  grave.  His  faith,  however,  kindled 
in  the  enthusiasm  of  his  spirit,  and  aspired  above 
his  depressions.  These  three  elements  made 
him,  as  a  man,  most  affectionate  and  generous  ; 
as  a  writer,  always  rhythmical  and  inspiring, 
and  as  a  preacher,  one  of  the  most  affecting  and 
powerful  in  our  history.  He  far  excelled  his 
brother  in  the  unction  and  effect  of  his  sermons. 
At  times  he  became  almost  seraphic,  and  melt¬ 
ed  all  hearts  by  the  pathos  of  his  feelings  and 
tones.  Such  was  Charles  Wesley. 

*.#  *  *  *  *  * 

He  spoke  eloquently  of  Fletcher.  John 

Fletcher  is  a  name  associated  in  my  mind  with 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


167 


every  saintly  quality.  He  was  “  the  angel  of 
the  church.”  His  temper  was  as  felicitous  as 
it  was  holy ;  religion  illuminated  his  life  like  a 
perpetual  sunshine.  He  was  a  living  example 
of  the  spiritual  doctrines  of  Methodism,  as  well 
as  its  controversial  champion.  Like  the  angel 
at  the  gate  of  paradise,  he  defended  it  with  a 
flaming  sword  from  the  intrusion  of  error.  He 
seems  to  have  been  providentially  raised  up  to 
assist  Wesley  in  the  revival  and  defense  of 
the  apostolic  doctrines.  While  the  latter  tra¬ 
versed  the  realm,  publishing  them,  the  former, 
with  a  polemical  acumen  seldom  equaled,  was 
defending  them  by  his  pen  in  his  solitude  at 
Madeley.  His  writings  are  an  impregnable 
rampart  around  the  theology  of  our  church,  and 
will  endure  while  the  church  endures.  Wesley 
said  he  was  intimately  acquainted  with  him 
for  above  thirty  years  ;  he  conversed  with  him 
morning,  noon,  and  night  without  reserve,  dur¬ 
ing  a  journey  of  many  hundred  miles,  and,  in 
all  that  time,  he  never  heard  him  speak  one  im¬ 
proper  word,  nor  saw  him  do  an  improper 
action.  In  all  the  compass  of  his  extensive 
acquaintance,  he  declared  that  he  knew  not  one 
so  devoted  to  God.  And  then  his  death — what 
a  scene  for  the  contemplation  of  angels !  His 

joyous  spirit  grew  holier  with  the  lapse  of  each 

2 


168 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


day,  until  it  burst  forth  with  triumphant  raptures, 
and  ascended,  like  a  flame,  to  heaven. 

*  *  *  #  *  *  * 

Again  the  conversation  ran  off  into  the  more 
striking  scenes  of  early  Methodism.  Mr.  R 
related  several  remarkable  cases  of  conversion. 
John  Furz,  one  of  my  old  associates,  said  he, 
was  listening  to  one  of  our  preachers,  who  ex¬ 
claimed,  “Two  witnesses,  dead  and  buried  in 
dust,  will  rise  up  against  you.  These  are  they,” 
holding  up  the  Bible,  “  the  two  Testaments 
which  have  been  buried  in  dust  on  your 
shelves.”  “  I  recollected,”  said  John,  “  that 
my  Bible  was  thus  neglected,  and  that  I  had 
actually  written  my  name  with  my  finger  upon 
the  lid.  I  thought  I  had  signed  my  own  dam¬ 
nation  on  the  back  of  the  witness.”  He  was 
horror  struck — went  home  and  called  upon  God 
for  mercy,  and  lived  and  died  a  faithful  preacher. 
John  Thorpe,  another  old  friend  of  mine,  was 
converted  in  a  still  more  singular  manner.  He 
and  his  comrades  were  one  day  ridiculing  and 
mimicking  the  Methodists.  They  attempted  to 
preach  for  a  wager.  John’s  turn  came  last :  he 
mounted  the  table  full  of  hilarity  ;  but,  on  open¬ 
ing  the  Bible  at  the  text,  “  Except  ye  repent 
ye  shall  all  likewise  perish,”  he  was  seized 

with  terror ;  his  hair  stood  on  end,  and  he 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  169 

p 

preached  in  earnest.  At  the  close  he  ran 
home,  called  upon  God  in  genuine  repentance, 
and  afterward  went  preaching  through  the  land. 

.  I  have  known  of  a  tavern-keeper, 
who,  relishing  music,  went  to  one  of  the  meet¬ 
ings  merely  to  hear  the  singing.  He  was  afraid 
of  the  preaching,  and,  that  he  might  not  hear  it, 
sat  with  his  head  inclined  and  his  fingers  in  his 
ears.  But  a  fly  lit  upon  his  nose,  and,  at  the 
moment  he  attempted  to  drive  it  away  with  one 
of  his  hands,  the  preacher  uttered,  with  power, 
the  text,  “  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him 
hear.”  The  word  took  hold  upon  his  con¬ 
science,  and  he  found  no  relief  till  he  became 
a  converted  man.  ...  In  Wexford,  Ire¬ 
land,  a  conversion  occurred  still  more  odd. 
Our  people  were  persecuted  by  the  Papists, 
and  met  in  a  closed  barn.  One  of  the  perse¬ 
cutors  had  agreed  to  conceal  himself  before¬ 
hand  in  the  barn  that  he  might  open  the  door 
to  them  after  the  people  were  assembled.  He 
crept  into  a  sack  hard  by  the  door.  The  singing 
commenced ;  but  the  Hibernian  was  so  taken 
with  it  that  he  thought  he  would  hear  it  through 
before  disturbing  the  meeting.  At  its  conclu¬ 
sion  he  thought  he  would  hear  the  prayer  also ; 
but  this  was  too  powerful  for  him ;  he  was 

seized  with  distress  and  trembling,  and  bawled 

2 


170 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


out  with  such  dismay  as  to  appal  the  congre¬ 
gation,  who  began  to  believe  that  the  evil  one 
himself  was  in  the  sack.  The  sack  was  at  last 
pulled  off  of  him,  and  discovered  the  poor  Irish¬ 
man  a  weeping  penitent,  crying  for  mercy.  He 
was  thoroughly  and  permanently  converted.* 
Thus  passed  a  cheerful  interview  in  reminis¬ 
cences  of  the  great  men  of  our  Israel,  and  an¬ 
ecdotes  which  are  as  marvelous  instances  of 
the  grace  of  God  as  they  are  facetious  examples 
of  the  ludicrous. 

*  These  anecdotes,  which,  with  many  others  of  less 
credibility,  are  current  among  the  Wesleyan  Method¬ 
ists,  are  well  authenticated  in  Methodist  records. 

2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


171 


A  MEDITATIVE  HABIT 

“ Isaac  went  out  to  meditate  in  the  field  at  eventide .” 

Moses. 

It  was  one  of  the  philosophical  rules  of  Py¬ 
thagoras  and  his  disciples  to  review,  by  close 
meditation,  the  events  of  each  day.  Cicero, 
though  adhering  to  a  different  sect  of  philoso¬ 
phy,  adopted  the  rule  merely  for  its  intellectual 
advantage.  He  found  that  it  invigorated  his 
memory — a  faculty  to  which  the  ancients  at¬ 
tached  high  importance.  He  tells  us  that  he 
practiced  the  precept  daily.  The  rule  is  infi¬ 
nitely  more  applicable  to  Christians.  Summer- 
field  was  in  the  habit  of  selecting  a  text  every 
morning  as  the  theme  of  his  meditations  through 
the  day — a  point  around  which  his  thoughts 
could  revolve  at  every  interval  of  leisure,  and 
to  which  he  could  summon  them  away  from 
every  casual,  and  especially  every  hurtful,  sug¬ 
gestion  of  the  senses  or  of  the  tempter.  — 
The  formation  of  a  meditative  habit — who  can 
doubt  its  value  to  the  Christian  character  ?  How 
entirely  would  it  transform  most  professors  of 
religion  !  What  stability,  and  energy,  and  dig¬ 
nity,  would  it  impart  to  their  conduct !  How 
much  more  profoundly  would  they  comprehend 
and  appreciate  their  religion  ! 


2 


172 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


Let  me  not  be  misunderstood.  I  do  not  mean 
merely  a  habit  of  sobriety ,  much  less  a  moping, 
ruminating  reserve  ;  but  a  habit  of  frequent,  of 
daily  meditation  on  the  Scripture  doctrines — of 
self-inspection,  and  of  self-comparison  with 
the  Scripture  standard  of  character — such  a 
habit  as  every  literary  man  finds  it  necessary  to 
cultivate  in  respect  to  his  intellectual  improve¬ 
ment — close  and  frequent  application  to  his 
books  and  his  subjects — constant  introspection. 

Now,  is  not  this  one  of  the  means  by  which 
Christianity  is  adapted  to  raise  up  the  mass  of 
the  popular  mind  1  Was  Christianity  designed 
to  exert  only  an  indirect  agency  in  the  intellect¬ 
ual  elevation  of  man  ;  to  furnish  nutriment  for 
his  heart,  but  not  his  mind  ?  This  is  as  fai 
as  the  Christian  world,  it  seems,  has  generally 
allowed  its  influence  to  extend  ;  but  it  is  a  mis¬ 
take.  Its  immediate  purpose  is  the  correction 
of  the  heart ;  but  it  is  adapted  and  designed  to 
raise  up,  by  a  direct  application,  the  intellectual 
and  the  social  condition  of  man.  It  is  the  in 
strument  for  the  elevation  of  the  total  condition 
of  the  world.  We  are  beginning  to  recognize 
this  fact,  and  to  make  direct  application  of  re¬ 
ligious  principles  to  individual  social  evils,  as 
legalized  intemperance,  slavery,  and  war.  Who 

doubts  that  the  improvement  of  our  minds  is  a 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  173 

moral  duty  of  even  higher  obligation  than  the 
care  of  our  health  ?  Who  doubts  that  the  time 
will  come  when  this  point  will  be  so  clearly 
understood  that  the  Christian,  who  unnecessa¬ 
rily  neglects  his  mental  cultivation,  will  be  con¬ 
sidered  criminal ;  more  criminal  than  if  he 
should  deliberately  ruin  his  health  by  declining 
food  ?  Alas  !  how  novel,  though  reasonable, 
is  such  a  thought  at  present !  By  intellectual 
improvement  we  do  not  mean  here  the  cultiva¬ 
tion  of  particular  faculties,  or  the  study  of  par¬ 
ticular  sciences,  but  that  general  enlargement 
and  invigoration  of  the  intellectual  nature  which 
should  be  the  object  of  all  mental  discipline. 
Now,  what  we  do  say  is,  that  the  popular  influ¬ 
ence  of  religion  should  have  this  effect.  Wher¬ 
ever  it  is  eminent  it  has  this  effect.  Who  has 
not  been  struck  by  the  strong  good  sense,  the 
tranquil  energy,  the  mental  integrity  and  sym¬ 
metry,  which  some  persons  seem  to  attain  at 
once  on  receiving  the  blessing  of  sanctification  ? 
It  sets  them  to  thinking ,  and  acting,  as  well  as 
feeling.  Who  does  not  see  in  the  character 
of  the  sacred  oracles  this  adaptation  of  reli¬ 
gion  ?  How  are  they  adorned  with  every 
attraction  of  intellect ;  how  unparalleled  their 
poetry ;  how  profound  their  logic  ;  how  cha¬ 
racteristic  their  biography ;  what  substance  for 

2 


174 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


thought  teems  in  every  text !  The  antique 
records  stand,  in  this  late  age,  confessed,  by 
friends  and  foes,  to  be  unparalleled,  in  mere  in¬ 
tellectual  traits,  among  all  the  productions  of  the 
human  mind. 

If  this  is  the  tendency  of  Christianity,  how 
can  each  individual  bring  it  to  bear  on  his  own 
nature  more  effectually  than  by  a  meditative 
habit  ?  Such  a  habit  would  promote  our  know¬ 
ledge  of  religious  truth.  What  an  ample  field 
does  the  Bible  afford  of  “  all  delectable  flowers 
and  fruits  !”  Each  doctrine  is  a  golden  vein, 
leading  into  the  great  mine  of  the  whole.  Now, 
if  we  should  combine  with  our  daily  Scripture 
reading,  daily  meditation  upon  the  truth  we  read, 
how  would  it  deepen  our  spiritual  knowledge ! 
It  is  wonderful  how  ignorant  most  laymen  are 
of  the  Christian  doctrines.  They  have  vague 
ideas  of  the  essential  ones  ;  but  how  few  of 
them  can  give  clear  statements  of  the  nature  of 
Faith,  the  Witness  of  the  Spirit,  the  Atonement, 
the  Trinity,  &c. !  It  is  a  good  thing  that,  in  the 
experience  of  all  Christians,  these  truths  are 
indirectly  involved  ;  but  it  would  be  better  if,  in 
addition,  they  could  be  theoretically  understood. 
God  has  not  judged  them  unworthy  of  being  re¬ 
vealed  ;  we  should  not  deem  them  unworthy  of 

being  studied.  The  habit  we  recommend  would 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


175 


make  us  Scriptural  Christians.  The  hallowed 
sentiments  of  the  Scriptures  would  be  more 
familiar  to  our  minds,  and  their  beautiful  phra¬ 
seology  more  common  in  our  speech. 

It  would  give  greater  decision  and  fixedness 
to  the  mind.  By  such  a  course  we  would  test 
and  estimate  the  grounds  of  our  faith.  We 
would  be  saved  from  the  frequent  misgivings 
which  attend  a  desultory-minded  Christian. 
Settled  in  our  doctrines,  we  would  be  more 
uniform  in  our  conduct,  and  more  unwavering 
in  our  experience.  We  would  act  more  from 
principle  than  impulse.  Our  whole  being,  as 
Christians,  would  become  more  vigorous  and 
determinate.  And  from  this  state  would  result 
*  a  more  regular  frame  of  feeling.  Is  it  not  the 
case  that  Christians,  more  than  others,  are  sub¬ 
ject  to  vicissitudes  of  feeling  ?  It  is  not  occa¬ 
sioned  by  their  piety,  but  their  weakness.  How 
many  caprices  of  feeling  and  useless  anxieties 
would  be  prevented  by  enlarged  views  and  fixed 
principles  in  religion  !  There  is  no  Christian 
minister  who  has  not  met  with  cases  of  pro¬ 
found  wretchedness  occasioned  by  wrong  views 
of  Christian  doctrine  ;  and  these  views  are  fre¬ 
quently  too  inveterate  to  be  corrected.  They 
would  have  been  prevented  by  a  better  know¬ 
ledge  of  Scripture  theology. 


2 


176 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


THE  MARINER’S  PREACHER. 

“  Was  lost  and  is  found .” — Christ. 

During  the  last  war  lived,  in  an  obscure  sub¬ 
urb  of  the  city  of  B - ,  a  poor  but  devoted 

English  woman,  who,  having  lost  her  husband 
soon  after  her  emigration,  depended  for  her 
subsistence  on  the  earnings  of  her  needle. 
Her  neighbors  were  of  the  lowest  class — igno¬ 
rant  and  vicious.  She  felt,  amid  her  poverty 
and  toils,  that  God  might  have  cast  her  lot  in 
those  unfavorable  circumstances  for  some  good 
purpose,  and  began  zealously  to  plan  for  the 
religious  improvement  of  the  neighborhood. 
Among  other  means,  she  opened  her  little  front 
room  several  times  a  week  for  a  prayer  meeting ; 
and  procured  the  aid  of  several  pious  Methodists 
in  conducting  it.  Much  of  the  good  seed  thus 
scattered  with  a  faith  that  hoped  against  hope, 
and  in  a  soil  that  seemed  nothing  but  arid 
sand,  produced  good  fruit ;  but  I  confine  myself 
only  to  one  instance,  which,  in  its  diversified 
results,  can  be  fully  estimated  in  eternity 
alone. 

Among  the  attendants  at  the  evening  meeting 
was  a  young  sailor,  with  an  intellectual  eye, 
a  prepossessing  countenance,  and  all  the  gene- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


177 


rous  susceptibilities  of  a  sailor’s  heart.  Amid 
the  corruptions  of  his  associates  he  had  been 
noted  for  his  temperance  and  excellent  dispo¬ 
sition.  And  yet  this  child  of  the  sea  had  been 
a  wanderer  on  its  waves  from  his  earliest  years. 
He  could  scarcely  trace  the  tie  of  a  single  family 
relation  on  earth,  and  had  known  no  other  friends 
than  the  ever-varying  but  true-hearted  compan¬ 
ionship  of  the  forecastle.  A  natural  superiority 
of  head  and  heart  had,  under  the  providence  of 
God,  raised  him  above  many  of  the  moral  perils 
of  his  lot.  His  fine  traits  interested  much  the 
good  English  woman  and  her  pious  associates, 
and  they  could  not  see  why  God  would  not 
make  some  use  of  him  among  his  comrades. 
He  had  received  no  education,  but  could  read 
imperfectly.  She  hoped  that  God  would  in  some 
way  provide  for  his  future  instruction  ;  but  in 
the  midst  of  her  anticipations  he  was  suddenly 
summoned  away  to  sea.  He  had  been  out  but 
a  short  time  when  the  vessel  was  seized  by 
a  British  privateer,  and  carried  into  Halifax, 
where  the  crew  suffered  a  long  and  wretched 
imprisonment. 

A  year  had  passed  away,  during  which  the 
good  woman  had  heard  nothing  of  the  young 
sailor.  Her  hopes  of  him  were  abandoned  as 
extravagant,  in  view  of  his  unsettled  mode  of 

Vol.  II. — 12 


178 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


life,  and  its  peculiar  impediments  to  all  im¬ 
provement.  Still  she  remembered  and  prayed 
for  him  with  the  solicitude  of  a  mother.  About 
this  time  she  received  a  letter  from  her  rela¬ 
tions  who  had  settled  in  Halifax,  on  business 
which  required  her  to  visit  that  town.  While 
there,  her  habitual  disposition  to  be  useful  led 
her,  with  a  few  friends,  to  visit  the  prison  with 
tracts.  In  one  apartment  were  the  x^merican 
prisoners.  As  she  approached  the  grated  door 
a  voice  shouted  her  name,  calling  her  mother, 
and  a  youth  beckoned  and  leaped  for  joy  at  the 
grate  :  it  was  the  lost  sailor  boy  !  They  wept 
and  conversed  like  mother  and  son  ;  and  when 
she  left  she  gave  him  a  Bible,  his  future  guide 
and  comfort. 

During  her  stay  at  Halifax  she  constantly 
visited  the  prison,  supplying  the  youth  with 
tracts,  religious  books,  and  clothing  ;  and  en¬ 
deavoring,  by  her  conversation,  to  secure  the 
religious  impressions  made  on  his  mind  by  the 

prayer  meetings  in  B - .  After  some  months 

she  removed  to  a  distant  part  of  the  provinces, 
and  for  years  she  heard  nothing  more  of  the 
young  sailor. 

#  *  *  *  *  #  * 

In  18 —  I  was  appointed  to  B - .  One  of 

the  most  agreeable  circumstances  of  this  new 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  179 

appointment  was,  that  it  afforded  me  the  ac¬ 
quaintance  of  “  Father  T.,”  the  celebrated  mari¬ 
ner’s  preacher  of  the  city — a  gentleman  whose 
fame  for  genius  and  usefulness  was  general  ; 
whose  extraordinary  character  has  been  sketch¬ 
ed  in  our  periodicals,  and  the  books  of  trans¬ 
atlantic  visitors,*  as  one  of  the  so-called  “  lions” 
of  the  city,  whom  a  distinguished  critic  has  pro¬ 
nounced  the  greatest  poet  of  the  land,  though 
unable  to  write  a  stanza  ;  and  the  mayor  of 

B - had  publicly  declared  a  more  effectual 

protector  of  the  peace  of  the  most  degraded 
parts  of  the  city  than  any  hundred  policemen. 

In  the  spacious  and  substantial  chapel,  crowd¬ 
ed  about  by  the  worst  habitations  of  the  city, 
this  distinguished  man  delivered,  every  sabbath, 
discourses  the  most  extraordinary,  to  assemblies 
also  as  extraordinary,  perhaps,  as  are  to  be  found 
in  the  Christian  world.  In  the  centre  column 
of  seats,  guarded  sacredly  against  all  other  in¬ 
trusion,  sat  a  dense  mass  of  mariners — a  strange 
medley  of  white,  black,  and  olive — Protestant, 
Catholic,  and  pagan — representing  many  lan¬ 
guages,  unable,  it  may  be,  to  comprehend  each 
other’s  vocal  speech,  but  speaking  there  the 
same  language  of  intense  looks  and  flowing 

*  See  Miss  Martineau,  Buckingham,  and,  more  re¬ 
cently,  Dickens. 


2 


180 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


tears.  On  the  other  seats,  in  the  galleries,  the 
aisles,  the  altar,  and  on  the  pulpit  stairs,  crowd¬ 
ed,  week  after  week,  and  year  after  year,  with 
the  families  of  sailors,  and  the  poor  who  had  no 
other  temple,  the  elite  of  the  city — the  learned 
professor,  the  student,  the  popular  writer,  the 
actor,  groups  of  clergymen,  and  the  votaries 
of  gayety  and  fashion — listening  with  throb¬ 
bing  hearts  and  wet  eyes  to  a  man  whose  only 
school  had  been  the  forecastle,  whose  only  en¬ 
dowments  those  of  grace  and  nature  ;  but  whose 
discourses  presented  the  strongest,  the  most 
brilliant  exhibition  I  have  ever  witnessed,  of 
shrewd  sense,  epigrammatic  thought,  melting 
pathos,  and  resistless  humor,  expressed  in  a 
style  of  pertinency,  spangled  over  by  an  ex¬ 
haustless  variety  of  the  finest  images,  and  per¬ 
vaded  by  a  spiritual  earnestness  that  subdued 
all  listeners — a  man  who  could  scarcely  speak 
three  sentences  in  the  pulpit,  or  out  of  it,  with¬ 
out  presenting  a  striking  poetical  image,  a 
phrase  of  rare  beauty,  or  a  sententious  sarcasm, 
and  the  living  examples  of  whose  usefulness 
are  scattered  over  the  seas. 

#  #  *  *  #  *  # 

During  my  second  year  in  B - ,  an 

aged  English  local  preacher  moved  to  the  city 

from  the  British  provinces,  and  became  con- 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  181 

nected  with  my  charge.  His  wife,  though  ad¬ 
vanced  in  years,  had  that  colloquial  vivacity, 
motherly  affectionateness,  and  air  of  tidiness, 
which  we  often  find  in  the  better-trained  women 
of  the  common  people  of  England.  I  felt  a  cor¬ 
dial  comfortableness  about  their  humble  hearth 
which  was  not  to  be  found  in  more  stately 
dwellings,  and  often  resorted  to  it  for  an  hour 
of  sociability  and  conversation.  I  thus  became 
acquainted  with  her  history — her  former  resi 
dence  in  the  city — the  evening  prayer  meeting 
— her  removal  to  the  provinces — her  second 
marriage,  etc. 

****** 

The  old  local  preacher  was  mingling  in  a  pub¬ 
lic  throng  one  day  with  a  friend,  when  they  met 
“Father  T.”  A  few  words  of  introduction  led 
to  a  free  conversation  in  which  the  former  resi¬ 
dence  of  his  wife  in  the  city  was  mentioned  ; 
an  allusion  was  made  to  her  prayer  meeting— 
her  former  name  was  asked  by  “Father  T.” 
He  seemed  seized  by  an  impulse  ;  inquired 
their  residence  ;  hastened  away,  and  in  a  short 
time  arrived  in  a  carriage,  with  all  his  family, 
at  the  home  of  the  aged  pair.  There  a  scene 
ensued  which  I  must  leave  to  the  imagination 
of  the  reader.  “  Father  T.”  was  the  sailor  boy 
of  the  prayer  meeting  and  the  prison ;  the  old 

2 


182 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


lady  was  the  widow  who  had  first  cared  for  his 
soul.  They  had  met  once  more  ! 

Her  husband  has  since  gone  to  heaven  ;  and 
she  resides  in  humble  but  comfortable  obscurity, 
unknown  to  the  world,  but  exerting  upon  it, 
through  the  sailor  preacher,  an  influence  foi 
good  which  the  final  day  alone  can  fully  reveal. 

Reader,  there  may  be  a  neglected  spirit  within 
thy  reach,  which,  reclaimed  by  thine  influence 
from  vice,  might  be  to  thee  an  agency  of  ines¬ 
timable  usefulness  ;  a  gem  on  the  brow  of  the 
church  on  earth,  and  a  blessed  companion  in 
thy  walks  over  the  “  flowery  meads”  of  heaven. 
Under  the  abject  rags  of  poverty  is  wrapped  a 
jewel  which  may  glitter  on  the  crown  of  the 
Redeemer  in  the  heavens  ;  and  which  an  arch¬ 
angel  would  descend  swiftly  from  the  skies  to 
seize  and  recover.  But  to  angels  is  denied 
this  honor ;  yet  it  may  be  thine !  and  it  may 
afford  thee  more  “  riches  of  glory  ”  than  could 
all  the  diadems  of  earth. 

2 


183 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

* 

UTILITY  OF  SABBATH  SCHOOLS. 

lAll  thy  children  shall  he  taught  of  the  Lord,  and  great 
shall  be  the  peace  of  thy  children .” — Isaiah. 

Would  that  I  could  place  every  child  of  this 
land  in  a  sabbath  school.  I  should  prefer  this 
usefulness  to  that  of  the  “  father  of  his  country.” 
I  should  thereby  secure  and  aggrandize  its  des¬ 
tiny  more  than  all  treasures,  and  arms,  and  le¬ 
gislation  could  ;  nay,  it  would  thus  be  made  the 
light  of  the  world  !  I  wish  to  put  on  record  an 
humble  word  for  this  noble  institution. 

Among  the  distinguishing  advantages  of  the 
sabbath  school,  I  consider  most  important — 

Its  tendency  to  counteract  the  almost  universal 
mis-education  of  the  moral  character  of  children. 
The  only  system  of  education  which  is  sanc¬ 
tioned  by  the  spirit  and  principles  of  Christian¬ 
ity,  is  that  which  is  based  on  the  recognition  of 
man’s  eternity  ;  which  calculates,  as  its  first  ob¬ 
ject,  the  improvement  of  his  heart ;  and  teaches 
him  to  estimate  everything  else  only  as  it  is 
subservient  to  the  world  to  come.  How  widely 
different  is  this  from  the  prevailing  systems  of 
education  !  How  seldom  is  the  young  immor¬ 
tal  impressed  with  the  admonition,  that  all  its 
present  improvements  should  be  made  in  re- 

2 


184 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


ference  to  the  eternal  future !  Its  calculations 
are  limited  to  the  present  world.  The  first  and 
chief  incentive  addressed  to  its  mind  is  one  that 
appeals  to  the  most  depraved  affection  of  our 
fallen  nature — selfishness.  It  is  exhorted  to  dili¬ 
gence  in  its  improvement  for  its  own  aggrandize¬ 
ment.  Its  infant  hands  may  indeed  be  clasped^ 
and  its  young  voice  taught,  morning  and  even¬ 
ing,  to  say — “  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven 
but  it  is  too  frequently  only  because  of  the 
lovely  simplicity  of  the  act.  Religion  is  made 
too  much  a  matter  of  mere  incidental  attention, 
fit  only  for  the  leisure  of  a  sabbath  day,  for  a 
sick  bed,  or  a  dying  hour.  The  instructions 
of  the  sabbath  school  tend  to  counteract  this 
defective  training.  They  point  the  young  mind 
to  its  future  state — a  state  where  its  present 
actions  will  be  developing  their  result  when 
suns  have  quenched  their  fires  and  the  stars 
have  fallen  from  heaven. 

From  the  consideration  of  the  influence  of  the 
sabbath  school  on  personal  character ,  the  transi¬ 
tion  is  natural  to  its  influence  on  the  public  cha¬ 
racter  of  communities .  The  character  of  a  com¬ 
munity  is  but  a  combination  of  the  more  promi¬ 
nent  and  general  traits  that  mark  the  personal 
character  of  the  individuals  who  compose  it. 
Hence  one  is  a  more  or  less  true  criterion  of 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  185 

the  other ;  they  are  as  inseparably  connected 
as  cause  and  effect.  Wherever,  therefore,  any 
average  standard  of  individual  character  can  be 
introduced  in  a  community,  that  will  be  the 
standard  of  its  public  character.  The  sabbath 
school,  acting,  as  it  does,  on  so  large  a  mass 
of  the  community,  and  that,  too,  in  the  most 
susceptible  time  of  life,  must  exert  an  important 
influence  on  its  character.  The  salutary  ten¬ 
dency  of  religious  knowledge  has  been  attested 
in  the  history  of  every  community  where  the 
experiment  has  been  made.  In  Ireland,  a 
country  affording  sufficient  natural  facilities  for 
every  comfort  and  refinement,  the  universal 
features  of  society  are  beggary,  grossness,  and 
superstition  ;  while  in  Scotland,  a  land  far  less 
favorable  in  soil  and  climate,  in  the  lowliest  cot¬ 
tage  dwell  neatness  and  social  virtue.  “  The 
disparity,”  says  one  who  is  competent  to  judge, 
(Robert  Hall,)  “  can  be  ascribed  only  to  the 
difference  of  moral  and  mental  cultivation  in 
the  two  places.”  Ireland  is  depressed  under 
the  influence  of  a  degrading  religion,  which 
precludes  the  Bible  from  her  children,  and  sub¬ 
stitutes  in  its  place  a  medley  of  demoralizing 
errors  ;  Scotland  is  blessed  with  an  evangelical 
faith,  and  an  enlightened  clergy ;  and  has  been 

taught  to  consider  her  beautiful  and  romantic 

2 


186 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


scenery  deficient  without  the  additional  orna 
ment  of  the  school-house  and  the  church  spire 

South  America  is  darkened  with  superstition, 
corrupt  with  vice,  and  rent  with  political  anar¬ 
chy.  New-England  is  the  oasis  of  the  world ; 
the  light  of  knowledge  illuminates  the  cradle 
shines  around  the  hearth,  irradiates  the  work 
shop,  and  blends  with  all  the  intercourses  of 
social  life.  Peace  and  quiet  pervade  its  extent. 
South  America  has  been  for  ages  under  the  in¬ 
fluence  of  a  corrupt  hierarchy,  whose  motto, 
asserted  in  theory,  and  carried  out  in  practice, 
is,  that  “  ignorance  is  the  mother  of  devotion.” 
New-England ,  on  the  other  hand,  was  settled 
by  men  who  reposed  their  hopes  for  the  well¬ 
being  of  their  posterity  on  the  power  of  educa¬ 
tion  and  religion  ;  who,  in  their  patriarchal  sim¬ 
plicity,  gathered  together  their  rusty  books  to 
found  a  college  library ;  gave  the  produce  of 
their  harvests,  by  the  bushel,  from  their  garners, 
for  the  subsistence  of  its  faculty  ;  and  who, 
rather  than  be  without  the  district  school-house, 
would,  every  man  of  them,  take  a  beam  from 
his  cottage  with  which  to  build  one. 

The  morality  of  the  Bible  furnishes  the  only 
sure  basis  for  any  good  social  order.  It  has 
given  to  our  own  land  its  moral  elevation.  It 
has  ornamented  its  towns  and  villages  with  the 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  187 

church  spire,  pointing  to  the  God  of  our  fathers ; 
and  the  humming  school-house,  the  sanctuary 
of  our  children — it  has  spread  peace  and  com¬ 
petence  through  our  community,  and  brought 
comfort  and  endearment  to  our  homes.  The 
Bible  was  the  boast  of  our  fathers  :  under  its 
sanction  they  fought  the  battles  of  our  liberty ; 
on  its  principles  they  founded  our  institutions. 
They  were  not  deluded ; — the  results  attest  their 
wisdom. 

The  Sunday  school  is  an  efficient  instrument¬ 
ality  for  suppressing  vice  and  calling  out  latent 
intellect ,  from  its  adaptation  to  the  poor.  It  is 
particularly  important  to  the  children  of  the  poon 
because  they  are,  from  their  circumstances  and 
the  examples  around  them,  exposed  to  vice. 
Their  parents  are  necessarily  engaged  in  labor, 
and  cannot  devote  proper  attention  to  their  train¬ 
ing.  As  soon  as  they  are  able  to  engage  in 
manual  work  they  must  leave  the  public  school, 
and,  without  the  sabbath  school,  be  destitute  of 
the  means  of  mental  improvement — left  to  grow 
up  in  ignorance  and  vice,  and  become  the  paupers 
and  criminals  of  the  community.  Among  the 
poor  are  frequently  the  best  materials  for  use¬ 
fulness  and  greatness.  It  is  the  testimony  of 
all  literary  biography,  that  the  elements  of  in¬ 
tellectual  greatness  are  chiefly  to  be  found 

2 


18$  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

among  the  obscure.  Uneffeminated,  accus 
tomed  to  scenes  of  self-dependence,  cradled 
in  poverty,  and  nursed  on  the  marble  bosom  of 
adversity,  they  possess  that  true  masculineness 
and  energy  that  fit  the  mind  for  high  purposes 
and  great  emergencies.  There  is  too  much 
truth  in  the  remark  of  the  poet, — 

“  Full  many  a  gem,  of  purest  ray  serene, 

The  dark  unfathom’d  caves  of  ocean  bear ; 

Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 

And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air.” 

And  in  the  grave-yard  of  many  an  obscure 
village  molders,  with  the  ashes  of  peasants  and 
plough-boys,  the  unhonored  remains  of  those 

“  Whose  hearts  were  pregnant  with  celestial  fire; 

Whose  hands  the  rod  of  empire  might  have  sway’d 
Or  waked  to  ecstasy  the  living  lyre.” 

Original  greatness  of  mind,  such  as,  under 
the  education  of  Newton,  made  the  author  of 
the  “  Principia,”  or,  under  the  circumstances  of 
Milton,  made  the  author  of  “  Paradise  Lost,” 
is  not  local  in  its  distribution.  It  may  reside 
in  the  cranium  of  the  peasant,  the  mechanic,  or 
the  tar,  as  well  as  in  that  of  the  occupant  of  the 
college  domicil.  But,  in  the  one  case  it  is  call¬ 
ed  out,  in  the  other  it  is  not ;  thus  many  a  latent 
spark  of  intellectual  fire  has  gone  out  which 
might  have  kindled  into  a  beacon  light  to  guide 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  189 

aviation  or  an  age.  The  sabbath  school  fur¬ 
nishes  us  with  access  to  such  minds.  Who 
can  estimate  the  amount  of  mental  energy  it  is 
putting  into  operation,  the  pearls  it  is  bringing 
up  from  the  depths  of  obscurity  ? 

Again ,  contemplate  its  probable  influence  on 
the  future  character  of  the  Christian  church ,  both 
laity  and  ministry.  It  is  a  truth  which  all  ob¬ 
servation  has  rendered  familiar,  that  the  earliest 
impressions  of  the  mind  are  the  most  powerful, 
and  are  of  the  utmost  moment  in  the  develop¬ 
ment  of  the  subsequent  character.  Hence  the 
great  importance  everywhere  attached  to  the 
early  education  of  children — hence,  the  charac¬ 
ter  of  an  adult  is  almost  always  a  true  criterion 
of  his  early  training  ;  and  the  intelligence  and 
public  virtue  of  a  community  are  a  sure  index 
to  its  state  of  primary  education.  So  that  the 
fact  now  alluded  to  applies,  not  only  to  individual 
character,  but  to  the  public  character  of  com¬ 
munities,  which,  as  above  said,  is  but  the  aggre¬ 
gate  of  individual  character. 

Now,  with  this  important  fact,  taught  us  by 
the  whole  history  of  human  nature,  what  calcu¬ 
lations  may  we  not  make  in  regard  to  the  future 
influence  of  this  institution  on  the  Christian 
church,  and  on  the  whole  moral  world  ?  It 
brings  the  regenerating  influences  of  the  gos- 

2 


190 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


pel  to  operate  on  the  first  moral  susceptibilities 
of  the  young  immortal  spirit ;  it  blends  these 
influences  with  the  unperverted  sympathies  and 
tender  affections  of  childhood.  It  directs  its 
soft  rays  on  the  budding  flower.  And  there  is 
a  purity  in  the  first  and  fresh  affections  of  the 
young  heart — a  purity  which  we  all  remember, 
but  which  the  searing  influence  of  later  years 
too  often  and  too  fatally  perverts — that  is  conge¬ 
nial  with  the  influences  of  the  gospel,  and  se¬ 
cures  to  them  a  much  more  promising  effect 
than  in  later  years.  If  early  training  has  so 
remarkable  an  influence  on  the  character  of  in¬ 
dividuals  and  communities,  we  may  well  pre¬ 
sume  that,  when  the  sabbath  school  shall  have 
accomplished  the  full  experiment  of  its  influence, 
it  will  exhibit  results,  the  anticipations  of  which 
should  send  gladness  and  hope  through  the 
Christian  world.  That  experiment  has  not  yet 
been  completed  ;  it  has  been  but  partially  pro¬ 
secuted.  A  single  generation  has  not  yet  pass¬ 
ed  since  the  general  establishment  of  the  insti¬ 
tution.  Indeed,  the  experiment  is  not  yet  fully 
commenced .  The  sabbath  school  has  hardly  yet 
attained  a  general  establishment,  even  in  the 
Christian  world.  And  yet  already  it  has  been 
productive  of  the  most  gratifying  results ;  wher¬ 
ever  it  is  in  operation  it  is  training  up  a  new 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


191 


generation  of  Christians — men  and  women  dis¬ 
ciplined,  almost  from  their  cradle-days,  to  the 
duties  and  enterprises  of  religion,  with  souls 
baptized  into  its  spirit,  and  active  with  its  stre¬ 
nuous  energies.  Who  are  they  who  make  up 
the  gross  membership  of  our  churches,  and  are 
most  active  in  all  their  enterprises  ?  Are  they 
the  aged — the  middle-aged  ?  There  are  indeed 
a  few  of  the  former,  the  elders  of  Israel,  who 
give  venerable  counsel  in  the  gates  of  the  city, 
and  more  of  the  latter  ;  but  it  is  confessed  that 
the  efficiency  of  the  American  church  is  now  in 
the  hands  of  her  young  men  and  young  women 
— those  who  have  entered  its  pale  since  the 
epoch  of  sabbath  schools. 

This  was  not  the  case  in  the  days  of  the  fa¬ 
thers.  Youthful  piety  was  then  a  remarkable 
circumstance.  Youthful  morality  was  indeed 
common,  but  not  piety — the  provisions  of  the 
times  were  just  sufficient  to  impose  the  restraints 
of  morality,  which  were  expected,  in  mature 
years,  to  strengthen  into  piety.  •  But  now  our 
congregations  are  thronged  with  the  young.  Our 
altars  are  bedewed  with  the  penitent  tears  of 
youth  and  childhood.  Juvenile  piety  is  infus¬ 
ing  spirit  and  vivacity  into  all  the  movements 
of  Christendom  ;  and  the  strong  energy  of  young 

manhood  has  laid  hold,  in  its  might,  upon  the 

2 


192 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


cross,  and  is  redeeming  the  world,  and  sending 
trembling  through  the  ranks  of  darkness  and 
error.  Who  can  doubt  that  the  sabbath  school 
has  had  an  important  agency  in  producing  that 
spirit  of  moral  enterprise  which,  since  the  date 
of  this  institution,  but  not  before,  has  revived 
the  church  into  life,  and  filled  the  civilized 
world  with  moral  activity  ? 

And  what  effect  is  this  institution  having  and 
is  it  destined  to  have  on  the  ministry  ?  How 
many  hundreds,  who  now  stand  prominently  in 
its  ranks,  and  thousands  who  are  preparing  to 
stand  there,  have  received  their  first  impres¬ 
sions  of  the  truth,  and  their  commission  to 
preach  it,  through  the  faithful  sabbath-school 
teacher  ?  It  is  the  theological  school  of  the 
millennium!  From  it  are  to  go  forth  those 
master  spirits  who  will  be  demanded  by  the 
future  emergencies  of  the  church,  and  who 
alone  will  be  competent  to  conduct  its  final 
triumphs — the  men  whose  strong  arms  are  to 
nold  up  her  ensigns  in  the  last  battles,  and  beai 
them  on  before  a  yielding  world — men  who, 
like  the  youth  of  the  best  days  of  the  classic 
nations,  shall  have  been  trained  and  hardened 
for  the  work  from  infancy — self-sacrificing  men, 
who  will  throw  their  whole  souls  and  bodies 
into  every  exigency  of  the  church,  and,  like 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS.  193 

Leonidas  and  his  Spartans,  guard  the  moral 
passes  of  the  world  against  the  enemy.  Such 
men  are  wanted  by  the  present  openings  for  the 
spread  of  the  gospel ;  and  we  cannot  but  think 
that  Providence  has  brought  into  being  this  in¬ 
stitution  as  a  wisely-adapted  means  of  meeting 
this  necessity  of  the  times. 

Lastly,  this  institution  appears  interesting  to 
me  as  a  beautiful  example  of  that  sympathy  and 
attentiveness  for  the  well-being  of  all  men 
which  the  Christian  spirit  inspires.  It  brings 
the  light  of  eternity  down  to  the  very  cradle. 
It  sweetens  the  loveliness  of  childhood  with 
the  sanctifying  influences  of  the  gospel.  It 
imparts  the  cheering  comforts  of  those  blessed 
doctrines  which  teach  us  the  saving  love  of  the 
Redeemer,  the  parental  superintendence  of  our 
heavenly  Father,  and  the  hope  of  a  peaceful 
heaven,  where  sorrowing  and  sighing  shall  flee 
away,  and  the  hand  of  God  shall  wipe  tears 
from  all  eyes,  to  the  first  anxieties  of  the  dawn¬ 
ing  and  inquisitive  mind.  Instead  of  allowing 
those  passions  which  deprave  and  imbitter  the 
heart  to  grow,  until  they  become  fixed  habits, 
binding  the  soul  as  with  shackles  of  brass,  it 
seeks  to  eradicate  them  in  their  first  germina¬ 
tion.  It  illuminates  the  smiles  of  unperverted 
childhood  with  the  loveliness  of  infant  piety, 
Vol  II. — 13 


194  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

and  throws  around  wayward  youth  the  strong 
shield  of  religious  principle.  It  exposes  not, 
like  infidelity,  these  lambs  of  the  flock  to  every 
beast  of  prey  that  prowls  to  despoil  them  of 
their  innocence ;  but,  like  an  imbodied  angel, 
it  takes  them  to  its  arms,  as  did  the  Saviour  of 
the  world,  and  blesses  them  :  “  Of  such  is  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.”  They  are  the  emblems 
of  the  innocence  of  the  skies  ;  under  the  train¬ 
ing  of  the  sabbath  school  they  become  the 
cherubs  of  the  earthly  church. 

I  lately  heard  a  discourse  in  behalf  of  this 
institution  in  which  the  preacher  spoke  empha¬ 
tically  of  the  adaptation  of  the  sabbath  school 
to  rescue  the  exposed  children  of  the  poor,  and 
concluded  with  an  illustrative  anecdote  which 
took  the  assembly  by  surprise.  Twelve  years 
ago,  said  he,  there  lived,  not  one  mile  from  this 
spot,  in  a  solitary  chamber,  a  poor  widow  and 
her  four  children,  the  oldest  three  of  whom  had 
but  imperfectly  learned  to  read.  They  had 
seen  happier  days  ;  but  the  father  of  the  family 
died  after  a  protracted  illness,  which  consumed 
all  their  resources.  The  widow  gathered  her 
little  ones  into  a  small  house,  and  by  toiling 
day  and  night  with  her  needle,  and  month  after 
month,  selling  articles  of  their  former  furniture, 
sustained  them  a  few  years.  Her  labor,  which 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


195 


was  continued  often  till  near  the  dawn  of  day, 
destroyed  health,  and  prostrated  her  with  pul¬ 
monary  consumption,  under  which  she  languish¬ 
ed  through  two  or  three  years.  During  this 
time  her  eldest  daughter  had  to  attend  her  sick 
bed  and  the  suffering  family  depended  entirely 
on  the  labors  of  two  sons,  (the  eldest  not  twelve 
years  of  age,)  in  a  neighboring  factory.  The 
charity  of  their  poor  neighbors  sometimes  re¬ 
lieved  them  ;  but  often  were  they  reduced  to 
bread  or  potatoes  alone  for  food,  and  a  few 
chips  for  their  comfortless  hearth.  They  were 
crowded  at  last  into  a  single  room,  where  the 
heart-broken  mother  soon  died,  hoping  in  God 
for  a  rest  beyond  the  grave,  and  leaving  to  his 
protection  her  helpless  children. 

Three  of  these  children  had,  in  former  years, 
and,  occasionally,  during  their  sad  afflictions, 
attended  a  sabbath  school,  which  was  established 
for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  superintended  by  an  humble  but  devoted 
blacksmith.  At  the  decease  of  their  mother,  the 
two  sisters  and  younger  brother  were  placed  in 
distant  situations,  while  the  eldest  boy  continued 
to  work  in  the  factory,  and  attend  the  sabbath 
school.  The  death  of  his  mother  prepared  his 
heart  for  religious  impressions.  In  a  few  months 

he  was  converted  to  God  in  a  class  meeting  of 

2 


196  SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 

children  connected  with  the  school.  And  now 
the  spirit  within  him  was  roused  to  exertion  ;  he 
took  the  library  books  of  the  school  in  his  pocket 
to  the  factory,  tied  them  open  on  the  posts  of  his 
room,  and  at  every  leisure  moment  snatched  a 
few  lines  of  reading :  thus  he  toiled  on,  serving 
God  and  improving  his  mind,  till  some  liberal 
Christians  rescued  him  from  his  lowly  lot,  and 
sent  him  to  school,  and  in  time  he  became  a 
preacher  of  the  word  of  life.  While  at  school  he 
received  the  joyful  tidings  of  his  eldest  sister’s 
conversion  ;  and  she  is  now  a  devoted  member 
of  the  church.  His  younger  brother  had  been 
placed  in  the  country  several  miles  from  any 
church,  and  amid  influences  which  hardly  allow¬ 
ed  the  hope  of  his  being  awakened  and  converted. 
Yet  the  former  impressions  of  the  sabbath  school 
remained.  The  divine  Spirit  enforced  them, 
and  he  was,  by  and  by,  led  to  the  distant  house 
of  God  ;  he  became  converted,  and  is  now  also 
in  the  ministry. 

Thus  were  these  three  saved,  under  the  most 
unpropitious  circumstances,  by  at  least  the  indi¬ 
rect  instrumentality  of  this  valuable  institution. 
And  why  were  they  thus  discriminated  from  the 
younger  child,  who  still  remains  unconverted  ? 
There  is  no  answer,  except  that  from  her  early 

age  at  that  time,  and  unfavorable  circumstances 
2 


SKETCHES  AND  INCIDENTS. 


197 


since,  she  has  neyer  come  under  the  influence  of 
the  sabbath  school.  The  oldest  son  has  recently 
been  traveling  abroad  ;  and,  from  the  scenes  of 
trans-atlantic  art  and  romance,  he  has  returned 
with  the  yearning  heart  of  a  pilgrim  approach¬ 
ing  his  holy  shrine,  to  look  once  more  on  the 
old  school-room  where  he  received  all  his  hopes, 
and  to  shake  the  hardy  hand  of  the  Christian 
blacksmith  who  first  directed  his  feet  heaven¬ 
ward  :  and  here  that  Sunday  scholar  stands 
before  you  to-night.  The  effect  of  this  scene 
was  deepened  by  the  fact  that  two  other  young 
ministers  sat  in  the  pulpit  at  the  time,  who  had 
been  converted  at  the  same  school,  and  many 
of  the  most  active  members  of  the  church  had 
been  scholars. 

2 


THE  END 


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